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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746602">Epevar's Cyrodilic Exploit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickodizzimus/pseuds/Wickodizzimus'>Wickodizzimus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Epevaric Saga [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Altmer (Elder Scrolls), Oblivion Main Quest, Other, Retelling, Storytelling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:08:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,856</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickodizzimus/pseuds/Wickodizzimus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sit down, Relax, and have a cold bottle of mead, while Epevar recounts his time during the Oblivion Crisis in Cyrodiil. Do note that this is a lore based retelling, not a game based retelling. What that means is that while it follows all the events of the game, a lot of it is told in a more realistic manner. Its structured like an amalgamation of text, because I figured it fit well with Epevar's rambling. It does not make things easier for you or me, so don't feel bad if you get lost. I intend to keep this going, though I don't know when exactly. But just stay on the lookout if you are actually interested in this drivel. Also, if you can, read it out to yourself in an Altmer's voice. Keep it authentic yeah?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Honningbrew Mead/Epevar, Honningbrew Mead/Guest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Epevaric Saga [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Elder Scrolls</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Epevar's Cyrodilic Exploit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Epevar’s Cyrodilic Exploit</p><p>So you want to know how it all went down during the Oblivion Crisis in Cyrodiil? I was there you know, for the whole ride even. So stay awhile and listen, feel free to some mead if I start to drag on though. Bah who am I kidding, you might as well help yourself to the whole cellar! I’ve got quite the tale to unravel.<br/>
I found myself waking in a dungeon, presumably left to rot for some unspeakable crime I must've been found guilty of. But...what? What possibly could I have done to have landed in a prison cell? I searched frivolously through my memories to unveil the answer to this puzzling predicament but to no avail. There was nothing I could recall before waking there. My memories had simply vanished. Had I been in a coma? Had I been drugged? Did I have a concussion? Was I framed and left to die alone in this hole? I could've been left pondering day and night trying to dwell on these questions, but my thoughts soon came to a screeching halt when I heard the voice of a dunmer in the cell across from me. He hadn't provided answers, consolation, nor even the slightest tinge of comfort. He instead opted towards taunting me. But maybe he was onto something. After all, how else could a person like me have landed there? But then, what was a person like me even like? I didn't have the answer on me at the time, and I wouldn't for quite some time thereafter. Soon after his mockery faded though, I heard heavy footsteps clanking down a set of stairs, growing louder and louder, until eventually three well armored figures and one robed and rather important looking fellow stood before my cell. They glanced at me before quickly arguing with each other as to why I even occupied that cell. The topic was soon discarded however and without further notice one of them had demanded I get over by the window and stay put lest it should get violent. Without hesitation and out of the rising fear that was travelling down my spine, I soon found myself patiently waiting by the so-called "window" which was actually just a square hole in the side of the wall. Soon enough, one by one they drained into my cell and all I could do was watch and wait for what was going to happen next. Then the robed man approached me. He looked at me silently for a moment studying every crevice and cornerstone of my being. Then he quickly snapped out of his momentary daze and asserted that he had seen my face somewhere in his dreams before. It all sounded rather mad at first but then something dawned on me. He was no other than Emperor Uriel Septim VII. Of course! I suddenly had a meager sliver of my memory back and could recall that the man that stood before me is the same man that I had heard about some time ago, while stories of the "Nerevarine'' were going around. This man was the same one that ordered said Nerevarine and led him in the direction towards saving Morrowind from a "blight" of some nasty sort. But my revelation faded into obscurity, as I noticed other details upon the emperor that would've been a dead giveaway to anyone who wasn't absent sighted. His robe was no mere noble robe, his was truly noble, the highest prestige clearly rested on this man's shoulders just from the color and trimmings alone. The royal purple adorned, signifying power, riches, and nobility. The white coat that reached around him serving as the finishing touch on what could've been mistaken for a studded masterpiece sitting in a palace display case. And lastly the amulet that swung firmly around his neck. The bright red gem and gold that encased it, alongside several gems that bedazzled its encasing, clearly signified some level of importance. Though as to why it seemed this way, I could not quite put my finger on it. After making these observations silently amongst my thoughts, I readjusted my focus to what he was saying to me. He explained to me that his sons were assassinated and that my prison cell may hold the route that his guards, who he dubbed “Blades'', were planning to escort him from. All of this was so much to take in and so little time to do so, but I went along with it and listened intently. I asked him as to why I was placed in a cell in the first place but his answer was neither reassuring nor detrimental. He merely proposed I may have been placed there by the gods, but then he soon followed that up by saying it mattered little as to my occupancy there. I then asked who he was and just as I suspected he answered "I am your emperor, Uriel Septim''. After asking him what would happen next he concluded it ominously with a sort of omen as to what would lie ahead. Whether he was directing this towards me, him, or perhaps even the both of us, remained a mystery. His guard then pushed on a stone brick in the wall, and to my surprise, the wall subtly shook then sunk inward and shifted to the side to reveal a newly formed hole that had been sitting behind the cell wall the entire time. They poured into the hole and I loosely trailed behind to no further protest from the guards, merely to just stay behind and not to cause trouble. As I followed suit I couldn't help but marvel at the situation I was in. "Today I met the emperor", I muttered to myself. I also couldn't help but notice how dilapidated and ancient my new surroundings were starting to appear. Clearly this passageway hadn't been used or even seen in years, maybe decades. Even the prison cell I awoke in looked newer than the refined walls encapsulating us, regardless of the remains of some poor soul that littered the cell's corner. I tried to keep my questions bunched up in a nullified corner somewhere in my mind as soon they all shuffled down a corridor, and before I knew it, I heard weapons being drawn at the rising suspicion that we were being followed. Just as this suspicion was raised, I then heard a door slam open and three strangely armored individuals then became visible to me. They leapt from the platform that held them and the hidden door, and drew their weapons quickly thereafter. A swift battle went underway in a matter of seconds, and I was honestly still stunned by everything else that had happened minutes before, that I hadn't been able to focus solely on the scuffle going on before me. I heard a loud “*SMACK!*”, then a groan, and soon the Blades Captain, Renault, that had opened up the passage into the sub-terrane to begin with, had perished. Their body now lying motionlessly on the ground, the emperor was quickly informed of this unfortunate event, but the guard motioned to press on as quickly as possible. I attempted to keep following them, but Baurus brushed me off before I could trail much further behind, and once they hurriedly made their way through, they locked the door behind them.</p><p>What’s that? How did I know his name was Baurus?</p><p>A distinct Redguard voice responded back to the captain before they went through my cell.</p><p>A neat observation no?</p><p>No? No it wasn’t?</p><p>I-uh, well I mean….Moving on yes! Have another mead friend!</p><p>Ahaha!.....</p><p>*sigh*</p><p>Any who, fearing the end of the road for a moment, I came close to hanging my head low and proceeding back towards my cell, when suddenly a loud crack erupted in earshot. A clutter of stone bricks suddenly ejected from the wall right of me, leaving behind a moderately sized hole that led into an alternative route along the subterranean passageway. Two giant rats also emerged from this hole and quickly focused their attention towards me, and without hesitation soon lunged towards my throat with stunning prowess. I briefly panicked before noticing something glimmering not too far from my reach. It was the katana that the captain wielded before being slain! Not one more second of consideration or thought was necessary to understand what I had to do. I grabbed that katana faster than you could blink and swung wildly in the hopes of at least protecting myself. All I know after that assault is what I heard, and what I heard was piercing slashes of the air, and two faint yet shrill squeaks. After opening my eyes, I saw what was left of the rats, now resting in their own blood. I would've almost had pity for the poor creatures had they not attempted to tear my throat out. After reorienting myself, I decided to explore the newly formed gash in the wall, and found it got much more spacious and promising to say the least. Though admittedly it was quite dark and dank and overall not a pleasant change of scenery. But I figured if I was alive and well then what did it matter huh? I would keep the pace going, but soon spotted a shadowy silhouette scampering about and decided it'd be best to silence my footsteps and crouch to lower the awareness of my stalkers. I then noticed a skeleton that seemingly once wielded a bow and a meager bit of leather armor still gracing their weathered bones.. How they died was a question lost to time, and an unimportant one at that. What mattered now was survival, so I grabbed the bow and found some arrows that were tucked away under the tattered skeleton, organized rather nicely in a quiver for having been down there for so long I would imagine. I took a deep breath, drew back with as much force as I could muster, and now a notched arrow firmly rested just waiting to break free from its stringed prison. So I lined up my sight with that of the vague figure scuttling to and froe, and released. It jolted through the air and sunk deep into the pesky thing, earning myself yet another small squeak and then silence. For having been the first time killing things, and with different means of execution as well, it was, well, exciting really. Not in a strange or sickening sort of way, but in an invigorating sense. Holding so much power in your hands is no small feat, and the rush of a battle sounded like a promising gift to be had. But then again I had merely slaughtered a few rats, so what did I know really? However, I eagerly awaited a true fight to occur, whatever and whenever it would come to face me. With that idea pushed patiently aside, I slipped on the rest of the gear that remained on the skeleton. It was only a cuirass and some boots, but I figured they would be better than sandals and a sack cloth shirt. There was also a leather shield laying about that I figured I'd take as well just in case. I picked up the pace once more and now saw two things that caught my eye. A door and a dead goblin. While the dead goblin was a peculiar sight to be had, I sure wasn't complaining. Though my curiosity got the better of me, so I shuffled through its pockets to see if I could find something of value. Sure enough, there was a key that I presumed would unlock the door. To my presumption, I was soon proven correct as the key slid nicely in the lock and cracked the door right open. Soon another rat fell into my line of sight and I hadn't a second thought as to quickly disposing of it. One well placed shot and a squeaky response later, I was once again on my way to wherever the tunnels would lead me to. As soon as that had begun though, I was stopped yet again by something truly peculiar seeming at first. Two rats quickly scuttled past me without any apparent aggression but rather fear. Fear stemming from what though? Well soon a third rat appeared, this time followed by none other than a zombie! The cadaver bashed the rat in with nary a second thought, and quickly trained its attention on me soon after. It was a horrid sight to say the least. It hadn't been dead long enough to decompose properly, and either some truly evil force or malignant entity kept it afloat. With a skeleton at least it's just bones and nothing more. But with what had stood before me, it was something much more gristly. Its grotesque figure was only accentuated by a pungent aroma that only a corpse could muster. Half of its torso looked as if the exterior skin had been ripped clean off of it. Some of its hair still protruded on the sides of its head while the top was mainly dead tissue and bone that protruded outwards a bit. Its complexion was a sickly green and certain chunks of flesh were missing altogether. It merely groaned then intently hobbled over to where I stood. Despite its lacking speed and nonexistent intelligence, it startled me more than I had anticipated. But how do you kill something that is already dead?.....AHA! A late cremation was in order for this lifeless husk and that was luckily something I figured I could muster. With a bit of concentration and adamant intent flowing freely through my fingertips, a fireball phased into existence from within my palm and flung forward onto the zombie. A loud groan emitted, and soon enough, the corrupted carcass was burning alive. Hmph, I find that funny to say. *Ahem*. It was a ghastly sight and the stench only worsened with this action, but it seemed to have worked, as it was finally put to rest as a pile on the earthy floor. I may not have remembered my experiences before finding myself trying to escape the clutches of misinformed lawmen, but I still had a fair bit of sense still tightly packed in the old thought chamber.  But with that messy bit of nonsense cleared up, I continued onwards through more rough, damp, rat riddled terrain, until I found myself entering a more cavernous area. Soon the dank tunnels had morphed into rocky walls and thread that strung together lines of skulls hung from the ceiling. As intimidating as it was primitive maybe, but it had indicated that semi-intelligent beings might’ve lied beyond. Another door leading further down the sub-terrane popped into frame and I opened it attempting to just get through the rest of the hole as quickly I could. It led into even more cavernous terrain but something in the air seemed awry. As soon as I turned a corner, I figured out why this was the case. A goblin stood not even ten feet away from me, though luckily had its back facing me. Even so I found the sight and smells emanating to be profoundly repulsive. It was no rotting corpse, but it may have well as been with the scent it carried. I attempted to silence myself yet again and see if I could catch the creature by surprise. I snuck ever so subtly towards it until I found myself just inches away from its backside. It hadn't seemed aware to my presence, so I drove my blade deep into its spine. It let out a coarse screech, then duly collapsed onto the rugged floor. It sounds like a violent act, but with a goblin, that simply does not apply. With the goblin dead, I resumed my venture through the cavern and even happened upon a bottle of poison. Not long after that encounter though, I spotted yet another goblin sitting alone in a cave, with three spiked, wooden, columns, lying patiently above the bastard. Clearly it was meant to be a trap of sorts, but I managed to spot the tripwire before such a contraption could've been used against me. Really it was quite a pathetic attempt at a trap to be honest. However, with the proximity of the goblin at hand, an idea had hatched in my head. I slashed at the tripwire and set the trap off. This alerted the goblin but all a moment too late, as soon the pillars swung down and crashed right into the bugger. It hit the beast with enough force to send it crashing onto the floor a mangled pile. After waiting a moment to ensure its fate had turned grim, I proceeded onwards. Up ahead, a similarly defiant scent arose once more, and I spotted a pile of logs and two goblins just below it. Both had spotted me, but I had been quicker on the draw and proceeded to kick the pile of logs towards the duo with as much might as I could. I watched the show unfold, as the wood pile toppled over and came crashing towards the goblins. They were nigh instantly crushed under the weight of a few logs. While quick and wretched things, their feeble structures luckily held little to no chance against a force like that. The last gasp of breath was drawn by the pair, and they soon lied dead under a pile of logs. As that business concluded, I descended further along, until once again being stopped by yet another goblin. It seemed like the cave was infested with the bastards. This time however, I noticed that the cave greatly expanded into a large chamber that I presumed harbored even more of the pests. The goblin in front of me took notice of my presence though before I could ponder further on the dread that having to face a room littered with the creatures would bring about. Without much hesitation, it lunged towards me with a dinky short-sword. Having grabbed that shield earlier proved to be a good choice as I quickly lugged it in front of me and heard a rough scratching emit soon after, indicating a successful block. I jolted towards the newly formed window of opportunity presented and struck back with a strike from the katana. The blow pierced the skin and landed safely within the creature's abdomen. As soon as I pulled the katana back out, the goblin swiftly dropped to the floor. Now that it was no longer in the way, I was then able to properly survey the newly expanded surroundings. I was able to make out a few peculiarities. Having thankfully never seen much of goblins, their level of organization was oddly fascinating to a degree. One of the first sights that caught my attention was a makeshift pen that held a few rats and had one goblin keeping a watchful eye over them. The next was what resembled a witch or shaman of sorts, standing near a cauldron, and wielding a makeshift staff that was topped off with a goblin's head as the focus. Lastly was a goblin sitting near a fire pit with a dagger and rough looking leather shield resting in its hands. The whole scene was rather jarring to me for a couple reasons. One was that despite clear indication proving they understood how to craft tools, acquire weaponry, use said weaponry, and just defend themselves in general. It was still a mystery as to why there were no further advances being shown. No sign of beds, huts, or any kind of clear living area besides maybe a more refined part of the cavern. The goblin near the cauldron looked as if goblins had an idea of basic magic at the very least, and overall it seemed like tribalism was a main societal staple of goblin life. But there had been no sign of a language nor any level of remorse presented by these creatures. Maybe I just hadn't met enough goblins? But so far nothing was looking promising from then on out. But after assessing my surroundings, I figured I had been standing around long enough, so I then devised a plan on getting through the room unscathed. I figured it would’ve been a fool's errand to attempt tackling the situation with brute force. Even against goblins I still needed to remain wary, especially when considering the numbers I would’ve had to go up against. I had noticed the shaman was standing near another continuation through the cavern. But there was simply no way I was going to be able to snake my way past her. So I searched around in my quiver for the sharpest arrow I could possibly find. Unfortunately they were all rather worn and only relatively usable up to a certain extent, but then a revelation struck me. I still had that bottle of poison I picked up, and a new scheme then started to form. I dumped the contents of the bottle onto an arrow, and drew back with as much intent as my joints could possibly express, then released soon after. The effect was immediate, and the shaman dropped like a sack of grains. None of the other goblins appeared to be aware of this event and that left me in the clear. I slid my way around the darkest parts of the expanse that I could find, and made sure to keep a close watch on the remaining opposition in the room. With all of them appearing to be blissfully unaware, I finally managed to make it over to the opening, and hurriedly made my way into it. A quick jog later, I found a hole that seemingly led back to the Imperial sub=terrane from earlier. Hopping through it, I overheard some chatter not far from me, and was relieved to discover that I had somehow found my way back to the emperor and his remaining bodyguards. After dispatching of more assassins attempting to disrupt the safety of the emperor, the guards convened with the emperor once again in preparation for their escape. I found this to be a good time to make my presence known, however upon discovery, the guards brandished their blades without question. But the emperor put a stop to it, insisting upon my innocence. With that declaration taken into effect, the emperor and I spoke once more, this time pertaining to the nine divines. I confessed I hadn't the most devout faith in the gods, if for just the circumstance alone. But even so the emperor appeared to understand me, and even rambled further into his own extent to which he served the Nine. This led into him eventually asking about my birth sign. My affinity for the arcane arts had always been a staple part of my being, regardless of my then faded memory. So I answered with the Apprentice, and was soon caught off guard by a most bewildering statement uttered by the emperor. He claimed he was acutely aware that he would die that day. He backed this up with a story of visions, and recurring dreams that plagued many nights of his. And yet.....and yet despite knowing his fate, he remained as natural as the day he was crowned. Even in his twilight hours coming to a close, he seemed almost content with the events that would proceed him. I marveled at it for a bit, which begged a question or two from me in turn. I asked if he had any sight into my fate. This was to be answered negatively, so I opted next in questioning his demeanor towards the chance of his ill fate. He answered with a content mindset, nearly beaming off of his snow white hair. He had no fear in death, or even in not having accomplished anything as great as his forefathers may have. He was perfectly content with having served his purpose in life, and being blessed with the knowledge of his demise. After he finished answering my question, I grew curious towards where we were even heading and he responded simply in stating that I would follow him to his grave. It was a ghastly thing to ingest, but with how he made himself appear in that instance, it almost made it easier to accept on my own end. With our conversation concluded, I trailed behind once again, doing my best to allow the guards to do their job and keep myself from getting killed. Eventually after some more assassins were endured, we happened upon what would be the final chamber of this subterranean network feeding under the city. We proceeded down a set of stairs, and the guards tried their luck with a rusted gate on the right side of the room. The gate however was locked, which indicated a trap had been set for the emperor’s escort. So instead the guards opted for a side passage at the very front end of the chamber in another room. Before an escape attempt could be made though, more assassins fell into view, and the guards rushed off to thwart yet another attempt in the perpetrators' plot to end the emperor’s life. One of them demanded I stay by the emperor’s side and guard him with my life. After he left to fend off the invaders though, the emperor took me aside to have what would be his final request. He informed me that his journey would soon come to an end but that I would have a duty to fulfill after his inevitable demise. He informed me of what would be his last remaining heir, then handed me the amulet that had been around his neck. He went on to explain that it was the Amulet of Kings, and that I would be delivering it to Jauffre, a colleague presumably. In doing so, I would be standing against the “Prince of Destruction” and his “mortal servants". I wasn’t sure what Uriel meant by this at the time though. But with that quest now laid out before me I gained a new sense of purpose welling within. However, just as I began to evaluate my newfound sense of value, the wall behind the emperor shook and shifted downwards, revealing an assassin. I drew my blade as quickly as I could, but it was already too late. However, something quite strange struck me about the whole ordeal. As the assassin drove his twisted dagger deep into the emperor’s backside, the emperor stared at me as his last breath drew, and I could've sworn that a faint smile grazed his lips before finally collapsing onto the old stone, a cold body. Baurus finished up outside, with the other Blade having fallen during the battle. He rushed back as quickly as he could, but he was too late as well. After examining the emperor’s corpse in shock, the guard’s attention was soon diverted to the absence of the amulet that had graced the emperor’s neck. I let him know that the emperor had parted with it in having given it to me, and that I was instructed to bring it to Jauffre and find the remaining heir. To my shock, Baurus hadn’t a hint of skepticism in his eyes or tone, he trusted in my words, if having been trusted by the emperor himself to carry the amulet was anything to go by. Baurus was still a bit shaken up by the whole experience, but he did his best to try and keep it together. He then informed me where I could find Jauffre, who was actually the grandmaster of the order that he served under. Baurus proposed what class I fought under, assuming I was a bard. Brushing off that jab, I just told him that I was a jack of all trades in combat at the very least. He rethought his original statement, and reveled in my claim. Lastly he handed me the key to the sewers, which would provide the way out. Without hesitation, I hurried along through the hole the assassin exited from, and followed that until stumbling across a manhole that undoubtedly led to the sewers as promised. I made my way down into a murky, dank, and sickly green passage that was no better than the rat and goblin infested hole I inhabited not long before that. But I pushed through, snaking my way past some goblins, and cracking a few rat skulls along the way. Eventually I found a tunnel revealing the light of day near the end, and knew I had found my way out. Giving myself a moment to rest and think, I stood near the gate harboring my yet to be freedom for what must’ve seemed like an eternity. After I swallowed down all that had transpired in front of my very eyes that day, I opened the gate and proceeded towards my freedom. I sat motionless for a moment the minute I reached the end of it. It had felt as if I hadn't seen the sun in decades. Maybe it was the weight of the events that came before, to witness such atrocities in just moments that passed like seconds is something nigh incomparable in the presence of time’s face. It couldn’t be shrugged off so easily or quickly man, mer, or beast alike. It was quick, I'd argue even hazy and dreamlike, but the events were set in stone, that much certainly couldn’t be argued. I had no connection to any of it, I didn’t care much about the interests of royalty or politics, yet this was different. It was as if I had known Uriel for his whole life and then some. Like the empire had been my home for the past hundred years. It was no longer a matter of political relation or personal ambiguities. The whole of Tamriel could be at stake judging by the events witnessed that day. Why else would the emperor trust in some had been shackled fool, suffering from memory loss and identity anonymity? What did he see that I couldn’t? I guess those questions lost their weight the minute he fell, so asking them now would be a fool’s errand. Once the contemplation and the taking in of everything before had settled, my mind was clear once again, and I saw no reason to stall the minute any longer. I took just one step further and nearly fainted in the light. The warming rays of the sun glistened on the bay and bounced off the current as a beam that pierced the coming tide. The wooded area beyond shimmered with a distinct green hue unrivaled by even the beckoning waters. More eye catching though was a ruin that stood no more than a hundred feet away from my position. It was clear it was of ayleid descent in design and architectural choice. A blunt reminder of a darker time in elven history. Though I wasn't there, I feel as if I were delivering lashings to supposed “lessers” the longer I stared at the worn down structure. I shook the thoughts aside however and pressed for Weynon Priory. Baurus had the decency to mark it down on a map that he lent me in conjunction with a pack for stowing away things of value. It lied near the city of Chorrol, located in the northwest a fair bit away. But I wouldn’t worry about that until I could find a place to lay my head. So much had transpired in so little time I thought the weight of it all would crush me if I provoked a thought too many. I looked around, finding little more than wooded areas for a good mile. But then I proceeded to look behind me, and there it stood. The Imperial City was more grand in scope than the stories justified. I was but a mere speck in its’ grandiose shadow that it casted over me. While the ayleids got what they bargained for, they certainly had a way in the realm of construction. The White-Gold Tower was one such monument to those feats. It resided now under imperial control, but every last brick and even meager sliver of foundation, at least externally, was of purely ayleid craftsmanship. It was a sight for sore eyes to be sure, even if such a colossal achievement in architecture seemed almost miniscule in comparison to the events leading up to laying eyes upon it for the first time.</p><p>What? How did I know that those were the names of the landmarks I gazed at?</p><p>……………….</p><p>Well what bloody fool wouldn’t recognize them!?</p><p>My memories weren’t gone forever you know.</p><p>Now may I continue please? Thank you.</p><p>Wi-....Oh what now???</p><p>My knowledge on the aylie-... Alright let me make this clear once more okay? </p><p>My past was one of the only things lost to me when I woke up in that cell. But my knowledge and a fair chunk of sense was still well and intact. Now does this satisfy your curiosity?</p><p>Good. Thank you. Just relax, I promise that this will be worth your while……..</p><p>And don’t give me that look!</p><p>Moving on.</p><p>With better perspective aiding me, I figured going around would be the best way to grasp the surroundings more, and perhaps even find a guard that could lend me directions. I prayed they wouldn’t recognize my face, being a convict and all, but maybe they’d assume me to be nothing more than just another unlucky altmer. I had a rogue-knot stopping at my upper back, an incomplete set of protection in the form of some rough leather covering my chest and feet with ragged pants as my only other coverings. A typical fair complexion with minimal scarring, and a lack of any major defining features elsewhere. I figured I could blend in lest they thought I was a thief. Even so the law in Cyrodiil, while strict, was always fair under most circumstances, or so I would presume being the heart of imperial power having to keep things in order while still managing to maintain some semblance of peace and livelihood. Comfortable enough to test this theory. I pressed on in my attempt to circle around to the front. After a bit of footwork, I spotted a bridge bearing yet the same architectural trademark of ayleid hands. I trailed on for a good bit more, almost tempted to give in and take a dive into Lake Rumare. But I reached the bridge eventually, and managed to get a hold of a guard on patrol while crossing over. Fortunately he was courteous enough, given his position, and informed me of the inn resting at the foot of the bridge, and that I could follow the signs if I needed to get to a specific city. So I proceeded towards the end of the bridge reaching this inn and inviting myself inside. A few patrons wasted about, and an altmer innkeeper stood at the front. I asked her how much a room would run me, and she responded accordingly, letting me know it’d be ten gold pieces upfront and no later. I shuffled through my pockets until grasping ten coins I managed to grab while in the sub-terrane. This left me practically broke, but I worried less towards the weight of my pockets, and more of my well being, so that thought left me as soon as it had entered. I hadn’t any further thought in heading up to my room and resting my then weary head. I was not blessed with sleep for quite some time though. I lied there tossing and turning, shifting ever so slightly here and there in a vain effort to keep still and comfortable. I craved for dreams and nightmares alike, anything over going through that day’s events over and over in my head. I almost didn’t believe any of it to even have occurred. How can all of that have transpired so quickly? It made me feel dirty, like a witness to something eyes weren’t ever intended to see. The fate of an entire empire rested in my hands, but I was a nobody, less so being a scatter-mind ridden prisoner. I tried to nullify my thoughts for the time being, so I did just that, and soon enough rest came to me. I woke late, unsure how long I'd been out. I didn’t feel exhausted nor too energetic, so I assumed just over a few hours at most. That outcome’s chance was no shock though considering how restless the afternoon before had been. I tried in a vain effort to slumber ever so slightly longer, but no matter the thoughts I shunned or how tightly I kept my eyes pinned down, newfound rest would not grace itself onto me for a second time that night. Realizing my misfortune, I practically leapt out of my sheets and swung open my door for whatever the day held in store for me. I thought it couldn’t get any crazier than the morning before, I mean surely? I lumbered down the hall haphazardly, still adjusting to some morning weakness and the thoughts of yesterday's events clouding my mind. I came to my senses after reaching the end of the hall. I gave thanks to the innkeeper, who gave a reassuring smile back to my patronage. I felt almost obligated to buy a drink for what I feared would proceed me, but coin was short as it was. When I opened the door, a nocturnal shroud blanketed my surroundings as well as my sight. I remembered Baurus also gave me a torch before leaving me to my own devices while the emperor still graced Tamriel. I pulled it out and set it near my empty hand. After a bit of patience and persistence, I managed to spark a small fire in my palm once more, and used that to kindle the cloth lining the end of the torch. With a lit torch, fire in my heart and hands, and a curiosity that couldn’t be quelled nor sated, I made for Chorrol. While little happened early on in the footwork I gave up, I did at the very least admire Cyrodilic nightfall. Obviously every province experienced nightfall, so what set this one apart? I think it was the way the trees swayed in the light breezes that would come and go. Or maybe it was the occasional guard on horseback making their nightly rounds in ensuring the roads were safe. But perhaps more than anything else, it was the night sky that encompassed all around me. Sure, it seems like such a trivial thing to take such solace in considering the fact that nightfall was half of a day’s lifespan. But I had never truly been out at night long enough to enjoy the peace it offered. Instead there are tales of horrible things that go on under the cloak of midnight, to keep children tucked away under their blankets safe and sound. Most assumed nights could only be enjoyed by criminals, guards, vampires, or just plain loonies. But I found myself reveling in an almost mystical time of day that I never got the pleasure to enjoy until then. This peaceful stroll through a sleepier Cyrodiil came to an abrupt halt midway to Chorrol however, as I was stopped by a highwayman. A lanky khajiit stood in my way. He presented me with two choices, one hundred gold pieces or my life. I would’ve given it to him just to avoid any further conflict, but I lacked the means to fuel his greed. Any meager amount of coin I had on me though had already been spent back at the inn. I had no choice but to defend myself. I refused his offer outright, and this filled him with a burning rage. He shouted out another threat, before drawing out an iron battle-axe from a strap on his back. I stood my ground, not tempting a movement in an attempt for a strategic approach to the dirt that stood before me. Showing weakness to such a lowly crook wouldn’t have spurred him on enough. In his blind rage, he dashed towards me, axe ready to cleave my skull in. I was prepared though, so I dashed out of the way. With more energy now flooding my system in this slight brush with death, I struck back accordingly. With my open hand, I flung a bolt of fire at the highwayman. This merely scuffed his backside though, much to my dismay. His anger only intensified towards this action, but this would be a secret stroke of luck. The more rage that fueled him, the more senseless this petty criminal would become. With another bout of rage spurring the highwayman on, he charged at me yet again in a similar fashion to the first attempt. Much like it, I easily dodged this, unlike it however, he went in for another strike coming in from the side. This nearly caught me, but I managed to narrowly avoid it due to a fort wall residing near the occurrence of our feud. Unfortunately for the highwayman, our duel took place near a ruined fort, which he wrongfully assumed would be a good spot to ambush unsuspecting travelers such as myself. To yet another stroke of luck though, he actually managed to embed the axe into the wall. Now I was presented with two choices. I could’ve ran away and let him tarry in his effort to dislodge his axe from the wall. Or I could’ve snatched the opportunity to end the poor fool's life. Instead I made a different choice than what I was given to work with. I brandished a steel short-sword I kept in the off chance my katana was either broken or stolen, in my case however, Baurus in the sub-terrane noticed it, and took it from me to honor the fallen. A shame in terms of self defense, but a noble act on his end. I let the highwayman know that he was outmatched, and that if I wanted I could’ve easily ended his life then and there. It was mostly a bluff, but he didn’t call it. Instead he sighed and stopped trying to pull the axe out for a moment. He explained he lacked many skills, and even with basic skills, he was unable to land a job. He even informed me he was once a noble in Elsweyr, enjoying the luxuries, pleasures, and corrupt schemes of any good noble. He was captured by slavers one night as a part of a high bidding contract they received, and transported to Cyrodiil in an elite smuggling operation. He narrowly escaped with nothing more than a lockpick and a rusty iron dagger. After escaping, he tried but failed to integrate into Cyrodilic society. No one hated him particularly, but most jobs were either taken, out of his league, or places were filled in with scandalous info concerning him. He couldn’t land a spot in the Fighters guild due to his muddy history with law enforcement, so in short, he was out of options. This left me stumped, then a twisted revelation hit me. While I personally didn’t support assassins, I suggested he join the Dark Brotherhood if he wanted to feel accepted. I mentioned how a reveler at the inn had brought up a rumor as to how new members were inducted into their ranks. He paused for a moment, deeply considering such an option. He figured he already had his hand in attempted murder of an innocent man that day, why not go through with it another day? He thanked me for not only sparing his life but spreading word for a chance to turn his life around, at least in some way. We parted ways and that was that, I just couldn’t help but be amazed that such a deep story lied in what was otherwise a generic crook. I shrugged it off soon enough though, continuing on my path to Chorrol. Eventually I reached what I determined was my destination. A small chapel and sizable home laid in front of my eyes. It lied outside of the city walls and looked about right, so it must’ve been Weynon Priory. I let myself into what I figured was the priory and was greeted by a monk adorning a black robe. He asked as to my business and I informed him that I was there to speak to Jauffre. The monk pointed upstairs, and so I proceeded up the small flight of stairs. On my right I spotted Jauffre sitting quaintly behind a desk reading something. I slowly approached and informed him that it was urgent we spoke. He garnered a bewildered look on his face at first, and rightfully so for what I was about to inform him. I reached into my pack and took out the Amulet of Kings. Jauffre’s face nearly contorted at the bedazzled trinket that legends surrounded. I didn’t hesitate to inform him that the Emperor himself gave me the amulet to deliver it to him. He digested the information presented for a moment before going over what must be done next. He suggested he hold onto the amulet for safe keeping, while I go find the last living heir to the Septim throne, otherwise known as Martin, who currently resided in the city of Kvatch to the southwest of Chorrol. Before leaving I asked him if there was anything I could use to aid myself on the road. He hesitated at first but recalled that he stowed away some gear in the chest near his desk. After unlocking it for me, I shuffled around in there to see what I could find. I was unable to land myself a regular one handed sword, but I had spotted a steel claymore resting under an iron cuirass. I pulled it out from under the mess of gear and luckily it came with a back strap. I decided to stick with lighter armor for the convenience of mobility in both travel and combat. I left the shield and short-sword there as tribute. But with my mind made and gear chosen, I flew down the stairs and out the door setting out for Martin. Jauffre wished me luck before I left though, and with that my journey had officially begun. At this time light was starting to break ever so meagerly, signaling morning's wake. I figured I’d have a long way until the afternoon snuck by so I made no further hesitation and simply pressed on towards Kvatch. I recalled that while making my way to Chorrol, I spotted signs that pointed in the directions of each neighboring city. I could vaguely remember what direction Kvatch lied for its placement on my map as well as the signs I remembered. So I went down the path I was on to get to the priory to begin with, essentially just retracing my steps to now get to Kvatch. Going back I hadn’t ran into very much. The highwayman from before was nowhere to be seen this time around, and at most I spotted a few deer grazing the hillsides. But I had taken in the morning glow that was breaking into view. Nightfall had been breathtaking to be certain, but the crack of dawn that was seeping in certainly added to the serenity of my surroundings. Sunlight glistened and caressed the leaves of lively flora, and overall the environment shimmered with an unmistakable shine that defined the otherwise rather plain views. Eventually I found myself back at the crossroads that harbored signs giving directions to each city. I scanned it for a moment until my eyes chanced upon Kvatch. As expected they led southwest, so that’s where I was headed. The trail leading there wasn’t too interesting in it of itself aside from a few ayleid ruins that dotted the countryside. Guards had evenly patrolled the routes fairly often, so wildlife hadn't presented a major obstacle. On the way there however, I spotted yet another major city coming up, which judging by the map I presumed to be Skingrad. I figured it only reasonable to make a stop and grasp my bearings before tackling Kvatch. I wasn't sure why, but I stomached an ill feeling as to what may lie ahead given the emperor's vague omens. When arriving in Skingrad, I really couldn't help but marvel at the architecture that walled the city. It was massive, and very articulately put together in an almost imposing but comfortable way. The scale of the city made me feel safe, and so I proceeded to the nearest lodging to see if I could get a more sound rest in before setting off to Kvatch. After arriving though I realized my pockets were still very much short of coin, and I hadn't anything on me that would've made for a good substitute. I tried to bargain with the innkeeper for some time on the matter as towards applying it towards a tab that I promised to return and pay. But much to my dismay she simply wouldn't come to an agreement, so I had no choice but to set out to Kvatch and pray I'd be able to get some rest there somehow, presumably after conversing with Martin. A priest of Arkay must have some way to find me a bed for the time right? I stored the thought in a convenient nook for motivation, and headed back out the city gates. Another mostly long and uninteresting journey proceeded me yet again, but I'd be lying if I didn't at least take the time to appreciate the serenity of the hilly landscape teeming with vibrant colors and scenic overlay. Cyrodiil sure harbored an almost unmatched beauty in its landscape. Perhaps I had spoken a bit too soon though, as before I knew it, I could see Kvatch on the horizon, but its walls at least from a distance, seemed unnaturally dark, and the trees that circled around the city were burnt to a crisp. Something definitely wasn't right with the state of the city, and in only a few more hours, I'd discover what that was. Something unspeakably terrible was brewing, and I could feel my insides stir at the thought. I pressed on diligently enough though, as I knew I had a promise to fulfil. The closer I got to Kvatch, the better view I was granted as to the scene splayed out before me. Smoke rose from within the city walls, and a raging storm could be heard heading its way towards my destination. Only a short distance outside of the city though, I was stopped by a frantic altmer that started spouting warnings and detail as to what had transpired at Kvatch preceding my arrival. Even in his panic, he was able to at least construe the story as vividly as he could manage. He described a great gate that had opened up just outside of the city while everyone rested. The townsfolk had awoken to their home burning and being ransacked by massive armies of daedric creatures that were pouring out from the gate right in front of the city. Guards were almost completely overwhelmed, but a few, including the altmer describing the events, managed to escape just in time. It was certainly quite a bit of information to swallow, but I suppose that’s just what I would have to get used to. Regardless, given everything else that transpired, it was certainly believable. Soon after unraveling his tale though, the man had panic still fluttering in his heart and decided it’d be safer just to dash off as far away from Kvatch as possible. Admittedly, I would’ve likely done the same were my heart in a different place. But obligation was running its course in my veins, and now more than ever was not a time to simply run away out of cowardice. I asked around the nearby encampment about Kvatch, each local giving relatively similar stories on the tragedy that had taken place  only moments before. They held onto hope though, most of them, and that in it of itself was mildly reassuring. I trailed up towards Kvatch passing a priest on my way. It wasn’t Martin unfortunately, but rather a disheveled priest who tirelessly rambled on about his newly lost faith in the world. I evaded the poor bastard easily enough, but it was a depressing sight nevertheless. I made my way further up the hill that Kvatch rested upon. As I climbed further along though, the sky began to darken into a reddish haze. Fire practically engulfed the sky surrounding Kvatch. The trees had transformed into pitch black husks of their formerly luscious colors. The ground was far warmer than usual, and had crumbled to a dry mess of ash and soot. At the top rested Kvatch, but blocking it indeed seemed to be the gate the shaken altmer had previously described. Just before the gate though were a set of guards that seemed to be holding their ground against whatever monstrosity popped  out of the hellish portal. Before I could get much further however, the captain of the guard stopped me. This was presumably the captain that the disgruntled altmer mentioned before running off. He was warning civilians to stay back, but I informed him I was willing to aid his men in driving back the forces beyond the gate. I figured that by taking care of the gate, getting to Martin would be a much smoother ride. I couldn’t risk some sort of ambush either. But beyond my personal reasons, I actually had the heart in me to help these people I had only just met. Even in the circumstances presented. I was about to go up against forces I had no good understanding of, forces very well capable of tearing me asunder if I was not careful. Yet despite the odds that were stacked against me, and the hellish doorway that was merely moments away, I harbored no fear or regret. I felt like a newborn fawn that was completely and blissfully unaware of the world around it. Before absconding off into the gate though, Savlian let me know that a few of his men went in but hadn’t returned. Savlian wanted me to attempt to find and potentially rescue them if they were still alive. I agreed, humbled by the thought that if there were survivors, I could potentially use their help. With that over with, I rushed off to the gate. The gate practically emanated demonic presence. The orange hue that made up the portal itself looked as if it would cook me alive upon entry. Ever so hesitantly I passed through, and by the Nine, what I saw was nightmarish. The charred remains of what may once had been soldiers, littered the floor. Two rows of pikes with skewered heads mantled atop them, lined the entryway. The sky was the same scorched color as it was just outside of the gate. The pungent stench of fire and brimstone met with my nostrils as soon as passing through to the other side. But the real eye catching things were off in the distance. Massive towers that were as impressive as they were terrifying to gaze at for too long. The tower’s ominous visage made the landscape appear as if it were a sunny field in comparison. But before I could focus much more of my attention to the intricacies of the plane I now inhabited, I heard a hardy yell of defiance not too far from where I stood. One of Savlian’s men was facing off against a scamp near a fell bridge. Ghastly creatures to be sure. Roughly half the size of a grown man, give or take. Gnarled teeth very clearly protruding. Their lower halves were furry, while their top halves were akin to goblins in appearing rather leathery. But without getting too lost in thought, I took this as a sign to quickly make my way over and lend a hand to the guard in question. The scamp was certainly no match against the two of us it seemed, as the demonic assailant was quickly cut down where it stood. The man thanked me, but was curious as to my presence there. I explained myself to him, and before he made his leave for the gate, I asked for his assistance. Thankfully he agreed to my proposition, as well as letting me know about another potential survivor known as Menien. With a new ally at my side, we descended further down the molten path. With his help, it became much easier to cut down swaths of the lesser daedra such as scamps or flame atronachs. The only real challenge before making it to the tower were the dremora right outside of the tower. Both were armed with only bows as far as I could tell, but both had different scouting routes that they would frequent. We figured we could lure one over, and just avoid the other entirely if possible. With a plan somewhat in motion, we garnered the attention of the nearest dremora. It drew on us without hesitation, fortunately its aim wasn’t anything to write home about. This gave us the chance to rush in on both sides. This befuddled the scout accordingly, and we were able to best it rather swiftly. The other scout was still missing from his post, giving us the chance to get into the tower unabated. But the journey was far from over. It was even more bleak and dreadful on the inside than out. A large column of flames, springing from a pool of lava, spiraled towards the center of the tower. It not only radiated energy, but it was audibly active throughout every corridor. Surrounding the pool were another batch of lesser daedra lingering about. We disposed of that issue with haste however. Now all that was left was to navigate the tower itself. There weren’t many doors to pick from luckily, and it having been a tower meant options would be sparse anyway right? So we took the one on the right side of the chamber and proceeded onwards. Before us was a series of slopes that went further up the tower. The problem for us though became quickly apparent. These rooms were crawling with dremora. There would’ve been no way we could’ve counted on luck and skill to best each one ourselves. So we picked off the unsuspecting one's first and foremost. Afterwards we slinked around the tower in our best effort to avoid demonic confrontations. We managed past them, and then soon stumbled upon a locked door. We almost were fooled into believing we hit a dead end, but on the opposing side of the room was another door. The issue was yet again the amount of dremora clogging up near the door’s location. We had no choice but to confront the crowd. Immediately upon discovery, the gathering all drew their weapons with such vigor that the weapons themselves almost seethed. One wrong move could’ve very well seen to our heads rolling around on the floor. I was fortunate to have been accompanied by the guard in that situation, or my demise would’ve been set in stone the moment I set foot in that cursed structure. We bested the horrible things with pretty moderate success. The man took a hard blow to the chest though during the fight, and appeared to be fairly wounded. The situation was looking pretty grim, but then a revelation struck me. With my knowledge of destruction magic, I figured I might would have some semblance of skill in restoration magic as well. Giving it a go, I decided to hover my hands over where the man had been struck. With enough concentration and luck to aid me, my fingertips began to glow. But instead of fire erupting from my palm, a soothing balm instead took its place. The wound closed swiftly and precisely. The man was soon back to full health in a matter of seconds. With a crisis averted, we headed through the only remaining door in our vicinity. Upon exiting, we were met with a thin bridge connecting to a tower just opposite of us. This must’ve been where Menien was being held. Sure enough, as we reached the other side, and proceeded into the tower, we heard Menien call out from an area above us. Scaling the incline, we were met with the dremora keeping watch of Menien. After a quick slandering, it attacked. Being on his lonesome though, the scuffle was kept short, and overall ensured victory for us. With the guarding dremora out of the way, I spoke with Menien. He informed us that in order to close the gate, we’d have to proceed to the “Sigil Keep” as it was called, and remove the “Sigil Stone” resting inside. That lied at the top of the tower we had just exited. He also let us know that the dremora we slew held the key needed in reaching the top. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do for Menien himself, but he didn't seem concerned with that disheartening notion. So we snatched the key after Menien’s instructions were laid out, and made haste for the Sigil Keep. Upon returning to the tower, there was little in the way of dremora or lesser daedra to inhibit our progress, with most encounters only being individual encounters. There were traps scattered about near the top of the chamber, but we managed past them easily enough. We proceeded through the door there, and low and behold, we were once again face to face with the colossal pillar of fire that pierced the middle of the tower. This time however, we were at a much higher elevation, with two opposing inclines leading to the same area. We headed up the left side, only encountering a single dremora. The catch was this one was more inclined to cast spells and proceed in combat with cowardice. Fortunately, stalling us was about all he managed to accomplish. After that concluded, we stepped onto a stone pad with cryptic markings strewn across the top of it. This took us to the final stretch of the inner tower. The last incline was now just ahead of us. A scamp there, a dremora here, and lastly the doors to the Sigil Keep were now well in sight. Interestingly enough, the actual top of the tower resembled a fleshy dome encasing. A stark contrast to the ashen texture, and orange hue the rest of the realm along with the tower itself had emanated thus far. With that thought tucked away, we made our way into the keep. It seemed to loop around on both sides, ultimately leading to the resting chamber of the Sigil Stone. The room itself though, harbored more than the stone however. It was crawling with daedra on both sides, where two sets of stairs led up to. Well not really stairs, so much as charred, gnarled, husks that merely resembled stairs. We knew we were outnumbered, so we came to the conclusion that we just had to take the stone and pray it allowed us to escape. To pull it off, we figured that by taking both sets of steps, we could split the crowd that would be ready to tear us asunder. It was risky, but we had few choices at our disposal. On a count of three, we dashed to our respective staircases, and did our damndest in narrowly avoiding the threats that opposed us. Lightning sped across the room, initially missing its intended target, but singing a hair or two on the way. We managed to meet up at the final pad where the Sigil Stone was in plain view. With nary a moment’s hesitation, I ripped it from its bonds, and soon the tower shook, seeming as if it were about to crumble. Fortunately, a blinding flash soon followed, and as our eyes readjusted, we saw we were back in Cyrodiil. The gate behind us had been closed, and I immediately reported to Savlian. The way into Kvatch was now clear, but the battle was far from over. We stormed into the city, and much to no one’s surprise, the city was still infested with daedra. Savlian and his men went to work, as did I. With the increased number of men now at hand, and the gate sealed shut, we fared a far better chance towards the odds stacked against us. The ensuing conflict was short lived, and within a moment's notice, we had cleared the area just outside of the chapel. With the area now secure, Savlian suggested they would be able to get the people still in the chapel to safety. This reminded me that Martin would likely be inside as well. But even with my task at hand, the battle for Kvatch had yet to conclude. We headed into the chapel, there were indeed survivors and a few guards still inside, but there was also a priest in the crowd, and I knew that’s who I was looking for. I left Savlian for a moment to go and speak with Martin. After a quick chat, it was indeed undoubtedly him, even looking quite a bit like the emperor in some ways. But he was a bit hesitant to the news of his supposed relation to Uriel., which was understandable given the circumstances. But he had also picked up word of the gate’s closing under my hand. This swayed him enough on its own, so he agreed to follow me to Weynon Priory when the time would arise. With that interaction out of the way, I returned to Savlius, letting him know I was ready to lend a hand in any way I could in taking back Kvatch. While he welcomed the eager response, he let me know that the road ahead could get bumpy. He then began to detail the plan in actually being able to reclaim Kvatch. The matter of utmost importance in this phase of the plan was the security of the castle. With Savlius’s warning well in mind, I reassured him that I was more than ready for anything that lied ahead. After a breather or two, we were out of the chapel, and outside to where the rest of the city was. Straight ahead of us was the castle, along with a statue commemorating a hero of some sort. But in place of homes and roads, were now nothing but smoldering ruins and charred ground paving every step. Fire still roared in most every building, including the castle itself. Not even the rain that was still relentlessly pouring down on us could douse the flames. Scamps littered every which way, simple enough to dispose of. But upon arriving at the castle gate, it was discovered that the gate was shut, and along its walls were daedra that were primed and ready with fireballs and bows. Seeing no choice, Savlius ordered me to go check in with Berich Inian back in the chapel. Berich held the key to get into the gatehouse. From there we could unlock the castle’s gate from the inside. So I rushed off back towards the chapel with a new plan now in mind. Upon entering, I noticed that a group of Imperial guards had made their way inside. They approached me, letting me know that they reportedly saw smoke rise from Kvatch while patrolling the Gold Road. They offered up whatever support they could muster in lending aid to reclaiming Kvatch. With that sorted out, I then approached Inian. But in asking for the key, he would prove reluctant in merely handing it over. Instead, with a fighting spirit still well intact, he offered to rather give me the key once we actually arrived at the entrance into the gatehouse itself. It struck me as odd at first, but the man was clearly dedicated to his city, and who was I to try and strip that privilege away? Just some silly altmer fighting for a cause I knew next to nothing about, that’s who. So I accepted these terms without much issue, and I followed Inian as they led me and the guards down into the chapel’s undercroft. Inside was yet another flurry of demonic forces scattered about the undercroft. With Imperial guards on our side however, this was of no glaring issue to our party, and we pressed on through to the end of the chamber. Once outside, it was in much of the same condition it had been in the rest of the city. Not a structure nor beam of wood went unnoticed in the sacking of Kvatch. The forces responsible still patiently persisting nearby. Another set of scamps and even a few atronachs. No one was badly injured by the forces arrayed this time around either. Further down leading towards the guardhouse however, we passed by what appeared to be the wreckage of a former arena. Fittingly enough, more experienced dremora blocked the path this time around. We still had the upper hand, but a guard was lost in the ensuing fight. One of the more unfortunate tragedies of war, are the nameless to fall. Just another man who tried to make a difference in the world. Vowing to protect the innocent, and persecute the lawless. Now lost to the tides of time and transgression. Truly a sad thing to think about in retrospect, but greater things were at hand, and the loss of one soldier among hundreds, was not something that I needed occupying my mind. I shook the thought off quickly enough, and we proceeded to the guard tower. Upon arrival, Inian handed me the key. Key now well in possession, me and the remaining guards scurried into the hatch leading under the guardhouse. After passing through it, we ascended the ladder inside, leading up into the gatehouse. Two sides divided, two gates holding forces heavily opposed. Guards ready to pummel this scourge only a few feet away. A scourge ready to burn Cyrodiil to the ground. It was quite a spectacle really, and it was now in my hands to let these two forces clash once and for all. There was certainly a bit more pressure into turning a crank than I ever would’ve imagined, but through perseverance, the gates were lifted. Instantly the two sides clashed. While at this point, I was no stranger to the danger at hand, I remained behind most of the small army amassed. Arrows flew, swords and claws intersected, fire poured forth from every angle. But once we managed to push into the courtyard, I brandished my blade yet again, and took to disposing of a few scamps lingering about. This time about, there were some casualties emerging from what remained of the Kvatch guard force. Two that I hadn’t taken the time to know, much akin to the Imperial guard earlier. Tragic still, but pressing matters were upon us. What mattered was the safety of the count, and the reclamation of Kvatch. So with the force we had left, we proceeded into the castle. It too happened to be in smoke and ruin. Inside were yet more daedra, mostly consisting of flame atronachs this time around. Another fight ensued, only costing an Imperial casualty this time. Before pressing on, Savlian offered to stay behind and hold down the area. This was a bit troubling, but presumably we still had the upper hand. Before leaving I asked the remaining soldiers if there was any healing to be had. But they were fortunately fairly unscathed, so we were able to press on confidently enough. The next room was much more compact than the last, making the flames inside practically snarl at us. The heat at this point hadn't been much concern to me, but the remaining guard that accompanied me looked as if he were about to pass out. He chugged on valiantly even so, but a stray fireball struck him without warning, and the man collapsed. I took care of the one in question for the assault with a quick slash or two, but upon inspection, the man was surely dead. It shouldn’t have ended that way, but there was no going back. If only such a choice existed, but chronology was not something practiced in Tamriel. Regardless, the room that hopefully held the count was just ahead of me. Upon entering though, a most grim sight was at hand. The room was trashed, fire filled up a few crevices, including enveloping a corner in the back. But most dire was the scamp that stood in the main chamber. Near its feet, a crimson pool. I charged in and slew the filthy thing as quickly as I could manage. But it was already far too late. It was uncertain how long the count had been lying there in his own blood, but it was a gristly sight nonetheless. However I noticed something that was on his hand. A ring, but on it a unique design that covered the face of it. It was a rather nice trinket overall, highly valuable likely, but Savlian would’ve probably wanted to see it if I were to tell him that the count was dead. With the ring pocketed, I made my way back to Savlian, bearing the grave news. I showed him the ring as proof, and he took it in the hopes of keeping it secure until Kvatch was able to rebuild, and a new count would be crowned. He also gave me his cuirass, as he stated that he was sick of fighting, and that it might serve me better in coming days. The gesture was reciprocated with full gratitude, and I thanked him accordingly. With the battle having concluded, relief was well in mind for a moment. Even so, my journey was far from over, I still had to escort Martin to Weynon Priory. I admit that the thought nearly escaped me entirely during the siege, I had only hoped that Martin was still waiting for my return. Before leaving the castle, I asked Savlian if Martin had absconded from the chapel. Savlian let me know that while Martin had left the chapel, he was likely residing in the camp just outside of the city. So I made my way out of the city, and down the path leading into the camp residing below. Before fully immersing though, I took one last long look at Kvatch. Smoke still rose, the land still appeared bare and lifeless, but the gate was shut. While it would be a while before the city would ever recover from such an event, there was a strange warmth in my heart that had developed upon viewing the charred walls. The setting was still grim, but Kvatch had been saved from the clutches of otherworldly forces that would’ve otherwise toppled the city and its remaining survivors. I was the catalyst for a city’s redemption. And at that moment, there was nothing more astounding to realize. A smile graced my lips, and with that memory now permanently fastened to a crevice in my mind, I made my way down the path in the search for Martin. Upon arrival, Martin was standing about, seemingly just watching the sky. I approached him, he informed me he was unsure if I would even return, but since I had, he agreed to accompany me on our journey to Weynon Priory. Before departing though, I dawned the cuirass Savlian gifted me. In my mind, it was a sign of reverence to that moment. Even if bigger things were to lie ahead, Kvatch was where my eyes opened to the scale of severity that quickly approached Cyrodiil. With the knowledge of that tucked away, we made our way to the priory. The way there was a stark departure from the war zone I interjected not even moments before our trip. But it was extremely welcome given as such. Once we arrived back at the priory however, it soon became clear that something had gone awry. Lying just outside of the door leading into the priory, appeared to be a dead monk littering the pavement. But without even a moment to think or react, a dunmer ran up to me. He was understandably frantic, but he was able to inform me what had transpired during our absence. Visitors appearing to be nothing more than travelers merely passing by, suddenly conjured weapons in their hands as they were speaking to the Prior, soon killing the man without warning. He also stated they would be right on his tail fairly soon, so I asked where Jauffre might’ve been during this. The man told me he would’ve likely been in the church praying, though he wasn’t sure. After that, he dashed off to wherever he hoped would be safe from the ones who were attempting to kill everyone at Weynon Priory. Not shortly after the man’s quick departure, we met face to face with the attackers. They appeared to dawn the same conjured armor and velvet robes that the assassins who had attacked the emperor in the sub-terrane had dawned. I was flabbergasted to say the least. It was clear that there was indeed a fully formed plot being executed upon not only the emperor, but everything that was tied to his reign. These lunatics were clearly organized, and a picture in my mind was beginning to form. All the turmoil that quickly struck Cyrodiil seemed far too coincidental. The fact that Oblivion itself was able to cross over and nearly demolish a city, along with just the day before resulting in the emperor and his heirs being assassinated, just didn’t add up. I wasn’t certain to what or how any of this could line up as it did, but the strings of fate were being pulled, and I wasn’t ready to die having been unable to unravel this growing mystery. I was so lost in thought, I hadn’t even noticed that the ensuing brawl had already concluded. With the assassins outside taken care of, I made haste for the chapel, with the thought of ensuring Jauffre’s safety being first and foremost now. Upon entering however, the story at hand was much different. Impressively enough, the old coot had drawn out his katana, and valiantly fought off his attackers. But even so, I knew it wasn’t a time to be gawking, so I stepped in to aid him accordingly. There weren’t many overall, so the fight was kept brief, and no one had suffered any injury too detrimental. With that out of the way, I took to speaking with Jauffre immediately. He was thrilled as to our return, but soon informed us that there was no time for celebration just yet. He figured that the cause for the attack was likely due to the presence of the Amulet of Kings. I couldn’t help but feel like a fool in hearing this, but yet again time stood the victor in that battle. With that in mind, he beckoned us to follow him in ensuring the amulet’s security. We followed him back to Weynon House, but once we were up the steps, it was clear to us that we were too late. The chest in which the amulet had been hidden, had been broken into. The amulet was gone. The air had stiffened to a chokeable level. All seemed lost for a moment. But we still had Martin. With this notion in mind, Jauffre informed me of a place in which Martin would likely be the safest given the circumstances. We were to make our way to a place called Cloud Ruler Temple. This was apparently the hidden refuge for the Blades, located just north of a city known as Bruma. After Jauffre had marked it, I realized just how tired and hungry I had gotten. I likely went a full day on an empty stomach, and restlessness burning furiously in each socket. Jauffre was understanding of this, and allowed for me to rest in one of the beds, and help myself to some of the food and wine downstairs. He also would let me have use of the horse that originally belonged to Prior Maborel, the man who had been killed and left to rot just outside. Martin was adamant in doing the same, understandably so, as Kvatch would’ve affected anyone who was there to see everything unfold. So we grabbed some grub, made short work of our meals, and laid our heads down for what felt like an eternity. My body was stiff, and collapsing onto the bed was akin to a crumbling wall losing its foundations. Sleep found me quickly, and I’d soon be escorted to a plethora of dreams. But these dreams, while vague, were clear and tormenting to no end. My mind was ablaze. Ripe were each visage of every damned soul lost to the onslaught of Kvatch. I tossed and turned through the night, I just couldn’t shake the thoughts that were quick to assault, and slow to escape me. But it made me open my eyes to the detriment at hand. It was not Kvatch that had me stirring under twilight’s veil. But rather, everything all at once, coming together as a conglomerated bubble of nightmarish proportion. We could’ve very well been living in the end times, and only I and a handful of other individuals, would’ve been able to do anything about it. It was almost comforting knowing that it wasn’t merely one event lingering in my subconscious. But the weight undoubtedly increased. Even so, rest would scoop me up yet again, and we’d soon wake in the morning to be off on our venture to Cloud Ruler Temple. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation for us, as every passing second was detrimental to our progress. We hurriedly saddled our steeds, and dashed off on the path to Bruma. There was less time to really breathe, let alone take in the landscape. But being on horseback tickled a memory enough to project itself back into my thoughts. I could vaguely recall having ridden horseback a few times as a child. I would fall more often than I'd care to admit, but each time, someone would come to my aid, and set me right back on until I was able to get the hang of it. It could’ve been my parents. Though I was unable to recall any further than that. Even so, the ride was invigorating. The way we practically pushed against the wind itself to accomplish our goal, was in a sense, almost humorous yet dignified all the same. Nothing would get in our way, nothing could stop us, and our sight was clear even if for a brief moment. The weather wasn’t exactly accommodating, but it was a sign of our proximity to the temple. Soon enough we’d scale the path leading up to it, and there it would stand, reveling in ancient glory. The doors that stood to block us were equally as grand. While not quite ornate in design, stature was clearly in mind. Just as my mind was starting to race again, the doors grazed open. We all dismounted our steeds, and Jauffre had word with the Blade known as Cyrus. After formal greetings were swapped in light of a new emperor gracing the temple, we proceeded up the steps into the courtyard. Once we got there, each Blade had lined up in preparation to greet their new emperor. Jauffre and Martin took their positions up front, and Jauffre would introduce Martin accordingly. Once Jauffre’s speech had subsided, it was Martin's turn to address the crowd. His speech was nothing grand, but he thanked everyone regardless, and after that spoke with me. Martin was unsure as how to go about being emperor. I wasn’t certain how to reassure him, but topics would switch back to the original matter at stake. The Amulet of Kings was our top priority, and Martin suggested I should convene with Jauffre on the matter. Jauffre was looking to be in much greater spirits now that we had arrived safely at Cloud Ruler Temple. I asked as to our plan in getting the Amulet, in which Jauffre suggested I head to the Imperial City to convene with Baurus. He would apparently be located in Luther Broad’s Boarding House in the Elven Gardens district. I was a bit taken aback in hearing this, though with more comfort than dismay accompanying my surprise. I hadn’t seen Baurus since my escape, and to be able to reconvene with him sounded like a charming idea. Jauffre incited me to give Baurus his regards concerning Uriel’s death, as Baurus did all he could. He was right in those words as without Baurus, I would’ve likely had no clue as to how to handle the situation I found myself in. Worse yet, the ensured chaos now plaguing Cyrodiil, would’ve likely ramped up to an unassailable degree. But with our conversation concluded, I made my way to the Imperial City at once. I figured there wasn’t a moment to spare, and the winter air wasn’t exactly the strongest motivator for sticking around. This time around, the journey was much less tense. Time was still not on anyone’s side anymore, but enough had calmed and subsided to at least invoke the notion that there could be temporary peace of mind. I once again found myself being astutely drawn to my surroundings. A similar feeling from when I had first escaped from the sewers, then hit me. Yet again did I find myself lost in the beauty of the landscape, but also just as lost to the turmoil unfolding in just a few days. To think that the nightfall, along with sleep, had only graced me twice thus far, was rather astounding to me. But before I knew it, I was crossing the bridge leading to the main gate of the Imperial City. I was able to stable my horse just outside the main gate. After dismounting and approaching the door, the guards took quick notice to my appearance, as well as my apparel. Soon praise erupted forth from them. One chanted “It’s you, the Hero of Kvatch! This is truly an honor”. It was flattering to be certain. I thanked the guards, and made my way into the city. Inside, the walls emanated grandeur and order with every last brick. Seeping from each crack in the foundation, was an air that when breathed in, could tell you just about everything you wanted to know about the city. The prominent theme was safety, and a humble aura not unlike that of which could be felt in a tavern. Ah speaking of taverns. I consulted my map in finding the Elven Gardens district. After a few more words of praise were slung my way, I eventually wound up where I was intending. I searched around for a bit, as I was still very new to my surroundings, but eventually I happened across the boarding house. Upon walking in, low and behold, there he was. Baurus was sitting rather calmly on a bar stool. It appeared as if he were waiting for someone or something to occur. So I approached him and sat down in a vacant stool. But before I could open my mouth, he interrupted. He simply told me to just stay put, and do as he instructed. He informed me that he’d be getting up in a moment. His suspicion was that a man in the corner would follow, and once that happened, I would follow that man. So we sat in silence for a moment, then Baurus calmly got out of his chair. Once he had done that, I watched as the man in the corner also got up from his chair. With the man's back turned, and Baurus heading into the cellar, I followed the man accordingly. Once in the cellar, the man conjured a weapon into his hand and began to attack Baurus. But with two against one, the stranger stood little challenge to either of us. With the assailant now taken care of, I spoke with Baurus properly this time around. First he let me know that the assassins that kept springing up in our paths were none other than a cult known as the “Mythic Dawn”. A cult apparently associated with the worship of the daedric prince, Mehrunes Dagon. Before my intervention at the boarding house, Baurus had been busy rooting out the cult’s agents himself. With his news out of the way, I let Baurus in on the recent happenings of my venture. The news of the Amulet’s thieving was unsurprisingly quite dire news. But the news pertaining to the uncovering of the last heir being alive and well at Cloud Ruler Temple was news we could both palette comfortably. I asked Baurus on the matter of the strange book the assailant had dropped upon his defeat. Baurus advised me to take the book to Tar-Meena of the Arcane University just outside of the main city. While I dealt with that, Baurus would keep digging into leads on the Mythic Dawn. With our business concluded for the time being, I made my way to the University. Upon arrival, it was yet another of many Cyrodilic wonders to grace my senses. This was potentially home to some of Tamriel’s best and brightest, I mean it had to be. Even the torches were of a stunning tinge of purple. This made me feel much more confident in my quest to uncover the secrets that the Mythic Dawn were hiding. Upon entering the door straight ahead of me, it was pretty clear to who I would be speaking with. They don’t name any old man or mer “Tar-Meena” after all. So I approached the scholarly argonian, and inquired about my findings. She proved ever so helpful in unveiling a few more details about the cult. It was also apparently not her first time working closely with the Blades, so this was a nice reassurance in it of itself. First I learned of the man behind the myth, going by Mankar Camoran. He wrote the books, of which there were supposedly four in total. The book indeed pertained to the worship of Mehrunes Dagon, under the teachings and guidance of Mankar Camoran. The first two books were the most common of the lot, and Tar-Meena offered the second volume to me as tribute. She believed that the books contained clues into actually finding the cult in the first place. Locating them was the first test for anyone willing to join. If I were to obtain all four books, finding them would prove much easier. The problem lied in obtaining the last two volumes in the collection. If I were to even hope in gaining any lead to the whereabouts of the latter volumes, I would want to check in with a man named Phintias in his shop, the First Edition, located in the Market district. I thanked Tar-Meena for her assistance, and then made my way to the First Edition bookstore. Once I made my way there, I spoke with Phintias on the matter of obtaining volumes three and four of “Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes”. He did indeed have volume three in his possession, however, this was to be reserved for a client coming in all the way from Valenwood. Though Phintias inquired that if I truly did want it so badly, I could bargain with Gwinas himself for when he would arrive, as he was already late for his appointment. This sounded optimal enough, and I sat patiently in a chair in the corner of the store. Fortunately, only mere moments after getting comfortable, the man in question had arrived. After Phintias handed Gwinas the sought after volume, I approached Gwinas with intent of claiming that volume. He couldn’t keep sealed lips for long, but he was hesitant regardless of his secrets being spilled out. That was until I let him know that the cult he had been reading up on, were the very ones behind the emperor’s assassination. This caught him off guard, as he had no prior knowledge of their involvement. He quickly changed his mind towards holding onto the volume he had quite literally just acquired. He merely took to reading up on them because he found Mankar Camoran’s views and teachings to be fascinating, revolutionary even! But he now wanted nothing to do with it, as he didn’t want people to associate him with the Mythic Dawn’s nasty plot. Before he absconded though, I asked him as to how I might acquire the fourth and final volume of the Commentaries. He explained to me that the only way of doing that, was to set up a meeting with one dubbing themselves a “Sponsor”. During this meeting, they would offer up the fourth volume. Gwinas had set up such a meeting before learning the terrible truths I had graciously lent. So he decided to hand me a note that would tell me where to meet up with the Sponsor. This was it, this was the lead we so desperately needed, the fourth volume was just moments away, and things were certainly beginning to look up. I of course thanked Gwinas, and wished him well in his travels. I thanked Phintias as well, then exited the store. Without any further hesitation, I hurriedly made my way back to Luther Broad’s Boarding House. Thankfully Baurus was indeed waiting for me there. I informed him of the note I received, and luckily, he knew just where to go and how to get there. We would have to take a sewer entry in order to get there. With that, I followed Baurus to the sewer grate of choice, and down we descended into the murky underbelly of the city. Not the most glamorous of escapades, but we had little choice in the matter. The journey was more wrought with filth and sludge than danger. Rats, crabs, and even a few goblins scattered about, were all that really stood in our way before reaching the chamber in which we’d convene with the Sponsor. Upon reaching the door leading into the chamber however, there were now two choices present in deciding how to go about meeting the Sponsor. Initially, Baurus offered to meet the Sponsor himself, while I watched from above, nestled in a vantage point. Alternatively, I had intended to meet the Sponsor, but I figured Baurus was owed this, so I did not argue with his offer. Baurus was not certain that he’d survive the ensuing encounter, and if that were the case, I would have to press on for the sake of recovering the Amulet. The tone set by this comment, was similar to that of Uriel’s before his own demise. But not wishing the same for Baurus, I assured him that I would have his back on this. With our plan in motion, he set off to meet the Sponsor, while I made my way up to the door leading to the vantage point. Everything was going fairly well, and I was about ready to swoop in if necessary, but then a light emanated from beyond a small gate that lied opposite from where I had positioned myself. As the light grew, it became clear that I was not alone up there. Two robed figures suddenly came into view, and they were headed straight my way. Seeing no better option, I revealed myself to them, and immediately the group became hostile to me and Baurus. I was up two against one, but one member had lost their footing, and slipped right off the walkway. It didn’t kill him, but it would certainly preoccupy him. Now with only one left to face, I flashed a bit of fire to catch them unaware, then took the chance to plunge my weapon deep into their gut. It might’ve been more gruesome were there robes not already a flushed crimson. Now there remained only one, the Sponsor himself. I leapt from the walkway to aid Baurus, and we swiftly took care of the opposed Sponsor. To keep things short and simple, I tossed a friendly fireball to the man on the floor. With the room now clear, and both me and Baurus still standing, I took the opportunity to snatch the fourth volume of the Commentaries. With Baurus having survived, he informed me he’d be returning to Cloud Ruler Temple to be at Martin’s side. Fourth book now in hand, I was more than ready to uncover the whereabouts of the Mythic Dawn in its entirety. Baurus wished me luck, and afterwards, I made my way out of the sewers. To my surprise, it was already starting to get dim outside. This was a sign that I had to present Tar-Meena with my findings immediately. I made my way back to the University, and spoke with Tar-Meena. Unfortunately, she would have to think on the findings for a lengthier amount of time than I would’ve hoped. But, being that nightfall was drawing near, I might as well have taken the chance to get some sleep while I waited. I figured I'd check in with Luther Broad’s Boarding House. Upon arriving, I realized I was still very absent of any gold to spare. I asked Luther if there was anything I could pay him with alternatively, but instead he brought a different offer to the table. Baurus had put in a good word, so for a night or two, I could rest free of charge. This was of great relief to be sure, and I hadn’t hesitated to get right into bed and drift off. Sleep came relatively easily that night, and I’ve yet to recall any dreams or nightmares having taken place. But while I woke up rather relaxed, I immediately remembered that I was to go and convene with Tar-Meena towards her progress in deciphering the Commentaries. She noted that Mankar Camoran was a truly fascinating writer, albeit insane. But on the notion of her progress in deciphering the texts, there had only been minimal findings. She let me know that she’d likely have more uncovered by the next day. While the news was a bit disheartening, progress was still being made nonetheless, and I figured a day to myself was well needed anyway. Up until that point, I hadn’t hardly a moment to breathe, let alone have a day unrelated to my quest. Upon leaving the University, and entering the main city, I figured I would utilize the time granted to me to get a better lay of the land and locals. While there had been more than enough appraisal to go around by citizens and protectors alike recognizing my involvement in reclaiming Kvatch, I wanted a better chance in personal interaction for once. With spare time now at my disposal, I had a plethora of interactions take place in that span. Some were simple enough, a “hi” and “hello”. Some leaned still towards my idolization, but I tried to remain humble about it, as I just played my part akin to anyone else at Kvatch. Though I suppose closing a gate that spewed forth destruction and pandemonium, would probably earn any old soul a little more notoriety than they’d bargained for. But with each passing interaction, I was able to pick up a variety of odd jobs and endeavors to suit my skill. This meant also that my dry pockets would no longer go a day so parched and fruitless. I didn’t want to rely on charity all the time, and my blade was getting rather dull from all the lunatics grazing its make. No job that day proved particularly challenging or noteworthy. Well I suppose there was that graverobber. Other than that though, the tasks were clear cut and simple, leaving me with a sizable amount of coin. The one striking thing that was of any particular concern however had to be right after I had exited a weapon shop in the Market district. The sun would soon set, and with my newfound wealth in hand, I’d figured that I’d pick up a better weapon more suited towards my line of work. I picked out a fine elven mace, as I saw it to be much more fitting to whatever might lie ahead of me. Upon my leave though, a slurring madman stood in front of me. He then raised his hand in the air, and out a weapon had manifested. A blasted cultist had gone and attempted to cut me down where I stood! I proved quicker than his attempt though, and landed a well deserved blow to his side. He was un-phased by this, but he wasn’t soon un-phased by the arrow piercing his backside. A guard took quick notice of the situation from afar, and dished out the killing blow himself. I gave the guard an approving glance and a smile, and carried on with what remained of my day. While the encounter did put me on edge a fair bit, I tried not to dwell on the thought much in fear of growing inescapably paranoid. The last thing I needed was to morph into a mumbling malcontent, too afraid to sleep or blink. With the day reaching its end, I returned to Luther Broad’s Boarding House. I was happy to pay him for the expenses of last night along with that night. It wasn’t necessary, but even if the end of the world was upon us, I’d still find time to lighten my pockets in light of a stranger’s kindness. The day ahead was much more of my concern anyway, so even simple gestures like that made sleep come as easily as breathing. With another peaceful rest under my belt, morning had well and dawned on the city once more, and I hadn’t hesitated in making my way over to the University as soon as the chance had presented itself. This time around, Tar-Meena appeared to have cracked the code hidden among the Commentaries. The clues detailed in the writings appeared to spell out “Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun”. She explained that something might reveal itself around noon if I made my way there to observe such a finding. Fortunately I knew just where to look, as I had taken many a stroll through that way while navigating the city. The day before I noticed a small structure bearing a faintly carved sun adorning the face of it. I couldn’t recall any other place or landmark of much other significance towards our particular findings, so it must’ve been the place of desired destination. Noon was a ways away however, so this time around, I made my way to the Arena district. I chatted with an eccentric bosmer sitting just outside of the door leading into the viewing booths. He gave me a rundown on the idea of the sport, as well as how to get involved, and betting rules. I figured I'd bet on a few matches to kill time. It had been my first time ever perusing the sport’s on-goings, and I was fired up to see some action unfold. I was tempted to shill a large sum of coin, but I didn’t think luck would do me much favor, so I played it safe, only putting forth ten drakes at a time. This meant upon winning the gamble, the amount placed would double. The view upon entering the stands were just elevated enough to make it so it was still easy enough to get a glimpse of every move made. I placed most of my bets on the blue team, but two on yellow for some good measure, coming out to a total of six bets. The rounds came and went, and most of my bets surprisingly paid off. Oddly enough, while in the heat of battle, I was given very little time to really admire the art of combat itself. While I was no stranger to a fight, and had seen much improvement since my time in the sub-terrane, it was refreshing to watch arena combatants have a go at one another for every passing match. Once it had all subsided, I met once again with the bosmer, calling himself Hundolin. He gave me my due earnings, and I made my way out of the district shortly after. Not before having a view of the two wannabe arena combatants. I had a weapon well in hand, and I hadn’t planned on losing it, but even so, I figured that spectating those two was worthy enough in itself to store some pugilist knowhow away in my mind. Upon leaving, I realized that noon was fast approaching. I hadn’t even realized just how long I had spent ogling pit fighters and bloodshed, so I dashed to Green Emperor Way not a second later. Once there, I searched around a bit until finally happening upon the structure in mind. A small tomb dedicated to a “Prince Camarril”. I hadn’t the faintest idea who that was, but much more dire things were at stake than to concern myself with the identity of some long deceased noble. Just as I had recalled, displayed ever so faintly on the front of the tomb was a sun. There was another symbol seemingly etched just below the sun’s visage, but it was difficult to make out. I stared at the monument for what seemed like an eternity, then, it happened. The markings began to light up with a bright red hue. The indecipherable markings below the sun lit up alongside it. The markings now revealed a clear map, along with a map marker pinning a specific location. The location appeared to be somewhere close to Cheydinhal. I memorized every last inch of the stone that I could, as I hadn’t any parchment to scrawl the findings with. With as much detail towards the specificity of the cult’s location now jotted down in my memory, I headed back to where my horse had been stabled, and departed for Cheydinhal. Upon arrival, I stabled my horse and soon made my way just north of the city, in hopes of chancing upon where I had intended to go. The thick of the journey was nothing more than scattered woods, along with accompanying hillsides. Eventually though, the wooded area would abscond, as now in plain view was a glimmering body of water. This must’ve been Lake Arrius, and given the distance I traveled, my destination should’ve been just up another hill or so. To support this theory, an incline led up to an area overlooking the lake, and I figured that upon treading the incline, I’d arrive where I was hoping to. Once up the hill, I spotted the entrance to a cave not far from me. I was still a bit unsure, and undoubtedly nervous, but if I could venture into a hellish gate of unspeakable horror, I figured I could make my way into some dingy cavern. So without further pondering on the matter, I made my way inside. At first it seemed pretty unremarkable, and I had feared I happened upon the wrong place. But I traveled a bit further down, and my worries were soon washed away. Moments away from me now stood a crimson robed figure. Near him a large torch, and two banners adorning the cavern walls. Behind him was what appeared to be a door leading somewhere further into the cavern. When approached, the man simply said “Dawn is breaking”. I was nearly dumbfounded by this, but I could recall hearing a reply to such a phrase during my time in the sewers with Baurus. So I responded with “Greet the new day”. This worked wonders, and the man welcomed me with open arms, informing me of my lucky arrival, as someone they dubbed the “Master”. He said I would meet with someone called Harrow, and they would be the ones to lead me to the shrine in the means of forwarding my initiation into the service of Lord Dagon. With our introductions kept brief, he foreshadowed something ominous in saying that the time of “Preparation” was soon to be over, and the time of “Cleansing” was soon to be near. Then he unlocked the door behind him, and I proceeded onwards, running into Harrow along the way. He was apparently the “Warden” for the shrine, and he quickly reiterated my time in finding the shrine at all, but added on to it in saying that I would earn my place among the “Chosen”. He stated that I had arrived at quite the opportune time, as I might would be fortunate enough to be initiated by Mankar Camoran himself, which is who they kept referring to as the Master. Pleasantries then aside, I was reassured that my needs would be met by the Master’s bounty. After informing me of that, I was asked to relinquish my possessions, and dawn one of their robes. I was hesitant for a moment, but I couldn’t risk blowing my cover too early as I wasn’t going to risk this golden opportunity of infiltration. So I went along with these terms, and handed over my mace and gold pouch. Fortunately I was allowed to keep my clothing and merely slip the robe on over it, as I was uncomfortable shedding my clothes in front of some deranged daedra worshipper. After I had done this, the final part of our interaction would begin. He led me deeper into the bowels of their operation, until we finally made it to the door leading into the shrine. Once inside, I could hear chanting echo from below. Below us, down a set of stairs, resided the rest of the initiates so it seemed. Another voice rang out though, preaching to the crowd. Once I was able to get closer, I was able to make out the details of an altmer man, dressed in a fine blue robe, and standing before an audience. This must’ve been the Master. This must’ve been Mankar Camoran. To think I stood just moments away from the leader of the Mythic Dawn, the man responsible for Uriel’s death, Kvatch’s ruin, and the rift between the daedric plane and our world collapsing. A monster stood before me. No. Monsters are simple minded beasts, ready to be put down by the brave and willing. What stood before me was no beast, though he was barely human by my standards. Unfortunately in the position I stood, and for the position the addled among me had rested, Mankar Camoran was our god. A genius. A revolutionary. But most of all, a sick, twisted, madman. But not an idiot. He held a grasp over his followers like a puppeteer to his set of marionettes. He may have been unaware of my presence, but I suspected it wouldn’t have mattered to him much regardless. I stood patiently among the crowd as Mankar recited excerpts from his Commentaries. The crowd chanted back “Praise Be” and “So Sayeth Lord Dagon''. He finally ended his speech with his subsequent departure to a place dubbed “Paradise”. But he informed his followers that upon his return, Lord Dagon would accompany him at the “Coming of the Dawn”. Once this had been stated, he ripped open a portal, assumingly to the Paradise he mentioned. He was gone. The crowd had been sated. The room was quiet. They all stared in my direction. I was motioned to proceed up the stairs leading to the platform Mankar had been preaching upon. While proceeding up towards the platform, I saw it. Resting on a stand was the Mysterium Xarxes. This was the tome tied to the cult and its teachings. The unholy artifact that Mankar Camoran utilized in spreading his devout word. But before I could think further on the cursed book my eyes were locked onto, a woman approached me. Her offer was simple, and cruel beyond words. In order to complete my initiation, a sacrifice lay not even a few feet away. An argonian man rested soundlessly just under the enormous statue of Mehrunes Dagon. The woman offered me a dagger, with the blade I would take it upon myself to sate Lord Dagon with “red drink”. In other words, blood had to be spilled if I were to submit myself to this diabolical band of empty headed husk sluggers. I accepted her offer, but of course, I wasn’t going to stoop so low just to secure a damned book. I didn’t blow my cover immediately however. I approached the sacrifice, dagger in hand, breath shaky. My mind was racing, but my choices were minimal, and I wasn’t going to allow myself to kill an innocent. Upon reaching the man, I made sure my back was turned so no one could get a good view of what I was doing. I whispered to him hastily, and gave him a light shake. Thank the Nine he awoke. As soon as he did, my volume shifted, and I immediately yelled out for all to hear. “Run you scaly fool! These lunatics are going to drain you like a grape!”. Perhaps not the best choice of wording I admit, but the message was clear, and the man hadn’t hesitated in getting to his feet. He wouldn’t be the only one ready to run though. The crowd was not happy, and I noticed Harrow dashing towards me, my mace in his grasp. The woman turned practically feral, and called for my immediate punishment. The room had now grown into my own personal arena, but I was severely outnumbered. Lightning soon flew my way, I evaded it fine enough, but was nearly caught unaware of Harrow’s assault attempt. The mace just barely grazed my cheek, earning me a light cut across my face. A light sting perhaps, but in the heat of the moment, my body was numb yet hyper aware. I had to be careful and calculate every last step in order to escape this hell hole alive. Harrow swung once more, but I grabbed his arm with a force I hadn’t even begun to comprehend. My blood was on fire now. How dare this raging bastard attack me with my own bloody mace! I was tempted to split his wrist open with my thumb, but this wasn’t the time or place to even bother trying something so absurd. Instead, I opted to snatch the mace out of his grime ridden hands. Mace in hand, eyes ablaze, and blood boiling, I bashed in the dunmer’s skull without a second thought. Horrifying it may have been to some, neither I nor the crowd paid much attention to the bludgeoned man now screaming out on the platform. Thankfully the idiot brazenly adorned my coin pouch on his side, so I was able to grab that quickly enough before another spell or dagger came knocking at my door. With my belongings back in my possession, I snatched the Mysterium Xarxes, and leapt off the platform. There was no time to think, let alone process miniscule or unimportant things. The drop wasn’t exactly huge, so I suffered no injury upon landing. Amazingly, the statue of Dagon began to collapse, served those looneys right! My goal now was to escape, alongside with the argonian I had freed moments ago. I feared that they had managed to cut him down, but right before making my way up the stairs to escape that cursed pit of slurring lunatics, he rushed to my side. While the crowd had trained their anger onto my ghastly misdemeanor, the man was able to evade their gaze behind the platform. They might have also assumed he had perished in the subsequent collapsing of their monument. He ran ahead of me though, signaling that he might’ve had some better sense of direction into escaping. We were unable to simply go the way I came in, as they had blocked the exit with a gate. There was another door lingering about the room though, so that's where the frantic argonian ran to. I followed him the whole way through that wretched tunnel system. We narrowly managed past all the opposing cultists ready to run us through till we were a fine paste. To say being limber and acutely aware was our aid in this conflict, would be a huge understatement I'm afraid. The entire cavern had been alerted to our treachery, word spreads fast when your underground I suppose. My weapon wasn’t entirely useless during our escape though. I can’t count just how many fools I hardily smacked into a wall with that fine piece of equipment. Those days spent toiling away for citizens of the Imperial City, truly paid off. The pathways leading back to the entrance felt like they went on for ages, but we finally made our way back. I spotted the man at the front again, and for good measure, gave the front of his skull a warm reminder of who I really was. Soon after, me and the argonian were now graced with fresh air yet again. I hadn’t felt so soothed by the open air since my time in Oblivion. But as breathtaking as the land now felt to us, there was just no time to take it in, we had to make our way out of the vicinity of Lake Arrius as soon as possible lest we were to risk a bunch of crazed cultists trailing us to the ends of Cyrodiil. We eventually made our way back to Cheydinhal, where we figured it was safe to convene. His name was apparently Jeelius, and before his untimely kidnapping, he was simply attending his duties as priest for the Temple of the One back at the Imperial City. That was quite a ways away from their shrine, so how they managed to drag a priest there was beyond me. But serious foul play was at work regardless. He wasn’t even aware who these “Mythic Dawn” were. He was just thankful to have escaped that hellish place, and he thanked me for my role in rescuing him. It was nice to get acquainted with yet another victim of the Mythic Dawn’s heinous treachery, and I hoped to run into him again at some point. As long as we survived whatever was in store, I saw no reason not to pay this man a visit. I paid him my respects and good tidings as he made his way back to the Imperial City, and after he made his leave, I mounted my steed and ventured back to Cloud Ruler Temple. After being cooped up in sewers and tunnels, I was anticipating my climb up to the temple. A chilling winter breeze was a divine gift in comparison to all else that had just concluded. I wasn’t appreciative the first time I admit, but the cool wind hit me like a pot of stew tickling my nostrils. I was at ease if just for a moment, but with the Mysterium Xarxes now in my possession, I had a suspicion things would not be getting any more soothing down the line. Even so, we were making progress, and upon arriving at Cloud Ruler Temple, I presented Jauffre with the good news. The Amulet may have been lost still, but we had an equally powerful tool to use in recovering it once more. I was to present the book to Martin, who would know more than anyone else, how to utilize it for our cause. Jauffre mentioned he’d likely be residing in the Great Hall, as he had hardly taken any time to sleep since my initial departure. Who could blame him really? Tamriel was now right in the middle of world ending peril, hardly a thing to sleep soundly over. Martin had also been thrusted into the illustrious position of emperor, it was a shock that his head wasn’t spinning round from all the sudden developments. I suppose if I was able to keep a steady head on my shoulders, then he and I weren’t doing so bad for two people now having to tackle a threat ten folds larger than anything regularly imaginable. With my thoughts on the matter subsided, I made my way into the Great Hall. This had been my first time actually inside of the temple itself, and by the Nine, what a sight that was. Along the ceiling were several archways, hanging from the archways were a plethora of katanas. It was made apparent to me later that these particular swords apparently belonged to fell Blades who met their demise in defending those of the Dragonborn dynasty. This gave further clarification on the resting place for each of the blades that had originally belonged to the fell guards during my time in the sub-terrane. Ahead of me lied a great fireplace, and its warmth emanated through every nook and cranny in the ancient stronghold. I noticed Martin sitting at a nearby table, fingering through a collection of books. I approached Martin with the Mysterium Xarxes in hand, and the priest nearly fainted. While he was appreciative that I was able to retrieve the book, it was quite a shock to see such a corrupt relic being swung around so bashfully. He apologized for his burst, but was aware of just how dangerous an artifact like that could truly be. I handed over the book, and upon asking if we’d be able to catch up to Mankar, Martin suspected the method in doing so might lie in the pages. But the process would take immense caution, and a bountiful amount of time to study. In the meantime, Martin had suggested I convene with Jauffre on the matter of spies plaguing the area of Bruma. So I went straight to the Grandmaster, and asked him on how I could aid in taking care of these spies. Jauffre explained to me that there had been several sightings of strangers lingering about on the roads near Bruma. The Blades were unable to intervene, as they couldn’t risk leaving the fortress defenseless, let alone Martin. This is where I could come in, and take care of the pests personally. But if I wanted more info, I would have to check in with Captain Steffan, as well as Captain Burd of Bruma. I was able to find Steffan in the east wing of the temple. When I asked about the spy issue, he informed me that a place to check would be around the runestone just outside of Bruma, as that was where they most frequently spotted the strangers. If that was all well and good, then that’s where I was headed. I made my way out of the temple, and rode my horse down to Bruma, stabling it there, and journeying on foot to the runestone. I could faintly make out a strange rock in the distance just atop a small hill. I didn’t spot anyone or anything near, but I figured I’d check it out regardless. After making my way over there, it was just as I thought. Empty. Dead silent even. Then I heard a twig snap. There was an unwelcome guest that had been skulking around, and the jig was now up. The figure soon revealed themselves, fully adorned in the battle raiments of a Mythic Dawn assailant. While they were swift, they also proved to be a bit too bold for their own good. One missed strike later, and it was my mace that left itself embedded in their side. Upon their fall, a key slipped out of their pocket. But unusually enough, it was marked “Basement Key”. This, combined with the proximity, implied there may have been a base belonging to a Mythic Dawn agent somewhere in Bruma. I would want to show this Captain Burd immediately. So I did just that. Bruma wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was a nicely compact city. Still freezing no matter how tall those walls were, but a quaint enough city nonetheless. Everything was right where it should’ve been, and that was an admirable trait. I spotted the entrance to the castle just ahead, and made my way there. I asked a guard where I’d be able to find Captain Burd. Fortunately enough, he had just exited the castle, and was walking straight my way. So I was quick to approach him, and question my findings. He unfortunately held no good answer as to the whereabouts of any potential dubious figures located in Bruma. There were no reports of strangers in town, so the guards were limited in what they could look into. He let me know that if there was anything else I could find, that I should immediately report it to him. I nodded as agreement to that proposal, and he returned to his duties. I felt a bit defeated for but a moment, but figured I’d check around the area bordering the city for anything else that might’ve been helpful to the investigation of Mythic Dawn agents. I shuffled around the area aimlessly, until happening upon a cave. Judging by the location, I deducted the reasonable assumption that it could’ve led right under Bruma. If that was the case, it might even lead directly into a home. It sounded crazy, but what other choices did I have? I couldn’t haphazardly storm into a citizen’s abode and announce that I was there to raid their basement. So I went in, not knowing what to expect if anything. It was relatively quiet in there, but not far from me, I could see a faint glow, indicating some nearby source of light. It didn’t bob or move around though so the coast seemed clear. I searched around for a bit longer, finding nothing of particular interest. But then, just as hope was slimming, I happened upon a simple door leading into what I could only assume was a room of sorts. That was sure odd, but I hadn’t even a chance to ponder on my findings as I heard a distant voice yell out “For Lord Dagon!”. Oh bother. It looked as if the clues were finding me, and another bold soul tried their hand in my tempting demise. But another bold soul did fail, and found themselves instead with a bleeding head. Two keys this time around would escape their pockets. One was mundane enough on its own, but the second one appeared to be the exact same as the other key I had uncovered moments before from the last ambush I endured. That was two spies down for sure, now was there any left? I decided to return to the strangely humble looking door, and attempted to use one of the basement keys. Success would grace me upon this try, and the door opened with no issue. Indeed it did appear to be nothing more than a simple basement. But only a fool would think that. On a shabby little table near the door were two items of particular significance to my investigation. The book was the second volume of the Commentaries. Hard enough evidence on its own sure. But the scroll next to it was the damning bit of evidence. It was addressed to Jearl, likely to be the identity of the agent I had just put down given the relative closeness. But most troubling were what the orders themselves had detailed. Among basic orders for the agent, talk of opening more gates, including one just outside of Bruma, were displayed in the text. But there was also information concerning the opening of a “Great Gate”. This Great Gate was proposed to wipe out Bruma entirely, alongside Cloud Ruler Temple, trapping the emperor like “a rat”. Funnily enough, the note mentioned a person certainly matching my actions in helping Martin escape Kvatch. Also warning the agent to not trifle with them. Too late hmhm. The note ended off reading “Dawn is breaking” and signed by one “Ruma Camoran”. This meant that master manipulator had a kid who was in on it. Could it have been the one that accompanied him on the platform during his speech? The very one to try and persuade me to sacrifice an innocent priest? I suppose it mattered not, as this document had to make its way to the eyes of Jauffre post haste! The document made no mention of other spies located in Bruma, so Bruma was safe, if for but a moment. I made my way out of the basement and the dusty rock encasing it, and located the stables. Saddled my horse, and off I went to bring Jauffre the urgent news. Day was starting to break around this time, making me realize how long it had been since my last rest. But, news first, sleep later. I finally made it, and Jauffre was outside keeping watch on different Blades as they trained vigorously. Upon showing Jauffre the news, he realized how dire the situation had grown, and was going to warn the Countess of Bruma as soon as he could. Meanwhile, I was to check in with Martin on his progress with the Mysterium Xarxes. Martin had informed me that he was able to decipher one of the four items necessary in allowing us to open a portal into Camoran’s Paradise. This was the “blood of a daedra lord”. The only way we could get such an item though, was to acquire a daedric artifact, as they were directly formed from the essence of their makers. I was unsure exactly how to achieve this though, and asked Martin if there were any nearby shrines I might be able to travel to without much trouble. He told me that the nearest one he was aware of in relevance to Cloud Ruler Temple was the Shrine of Azura. He marked it on my map, and I was to set out later that afternoon after a sound enough rest. In the west wing of the temple, there were free beds for any wary soldier in need of a good rest. In this case, I fit that bill, and quickly collapsed into a bedroll. Not the comfiest or even most calming bit of sleep I ever had, but I awoke without much groaning, and that was good enough for me. It was another rest seemingly absent of any significant dreams or nightmares for that matter. So I rose from my slumber, and carried forth with my promise to Martin in acquiring a daedric artifact. The way there was a bit muddled with more slopes than trees half the time. But eventually, I could see the shrine just up a hill, and my was that a view to behold. I always found it impressive the level of craft that went into larger structures. Statues however weren’t just monumental in size, but incredibly detailed. It is one thing to build a wall, but it is another thing to mold a face. Before reaching the shrine however, I was attacked by something most peculiar. A mass of yellow energy appeared to be harassing my steed. I was unsure if it was really harming it, as well as trying to figure out just what kind of thing my eyes were even looking at. But my horse whinnied in what resembled a discomforted or pained sound, so I shot a fire ball off in the being's direction. It made a ghastly sound, then appeared to collapse as a pile of glowing dust. With yellow powder now littering the ground, I scooped a bit up out of curiosity. Was it dead? What was I even holding in my hands? I couldn’t even begin to surmise what had transpired, but I shoveled some of it into my pocket, and made my way up to the shrine unabated. Once there, I was at a bit of a loss. How was one to even make contact with a daedric prince? Let alone acquire their artifact? I decided to approach one of the three worshippers there, and ask as to how I might go about communing with their lord. The man explained that two things would need to align to ensure my interaction with Azura. I would first need “Glow Dust”. When he mentioned that, I shuffled around in my pocket for the strange yellow droppings obtained from the creature just before arriving at the shrine. He nodded, then went on to inquire that I’d have to leave that glow dust at the foot of the shrine around either dusk or dawn. I gazed over the horizon, and just to my luck, the sun was clearly beginning to set. I hadn’t realized how long the trip took, or how long I might’ve slept, but I suppose they were blessings in disguise regardless. I scattered the glow dust accordingly, and waited patiently. It wasn’t long at all however, and a voice began to invade my mind. Azura had begun speaking to me, and they told me of an issue that had been plaguing them. Apparently, five of their devout followers had defeated a powerful vampire, along with its ill begotten brethren. But unfortunately, all five were duly infected, and sealed themselves away because of this. Azura wanted me to put an end to their eternal suffering, once and for all. They were located just north of the shrine, in the “Gutted Mine”. Instead of a map marker, the daedra opted to emblazon its location right into my mind. If I were to succeed, a great reward was promised. With our interaction then concluded, I went straight up the path leading to the gutted mine. I was wavering between being nervous and being confident. I didn’t want to share the fate of Azura’s followers, but unholy beings like vampires were said to be susceptible to the magic I wielded. I figured it mattered the little as the world hung in the balance, and I already made contact with Azura, so I might as well have followed through with their request. I surely didn’t want to risk the wrath of a being beyond my knowledge, so I proceeded into the mine without much more debate. The area was fairly well lit, but the entrance leading into said illuminated area, was not so fortunate. I bring it up, as there had been a tripwire waiting for me. I managed past it just barely, and soon became grateful of the lit area beyond the entrance. But my gratitude would diminish, as now I stood face to face with one of the five bloodsuckers. They were armed with a simple sword and shield, and looked to be quite nimble on their feet. But this time that I had the good grace of seeing them first, I shot off a quick bout of flames, and just about melted their flesh. They reeled back in pain, and slammed into one of the wooden beams, knocking them out cold. I finished the job by sizzling them a bit more just to be sure. I just could not risk falling to one of these lost souls. But company was soon on its way. Two more of what was then four, dashed into the room I resided in, and quickly made their move. One was armed with a bow, but a poor choice that might’ve been, as right upon firing, the fool hit his friend. The other attacker, one armed with a blade, hissed back at his companion, giving me a ripe chance to smack him where he stood. Putting forth all my might, the second of five were now down. The archer was not deterred by this, and resumed his aim once more. Once again, the bow might not have been such a smart idea given our close quarters to duel in. He was unable to draw fast enough, before a bolt of fire enveloped him. This reduced the third of five, to ashes. Two were left now, and finding them was all that worried me. Near where I stood was an oddly shaped rock wall. Near it was a stone attached to a rope, that hung low from the ceiling. Was this some sort of joke? A sick game by corrupt minds? Maybe being down there for so long made them go insane alongside becoming an unspeakable creature of the night. I pulled on it, and as suspected, the poor rock formation crumbled. It seemed as if nothing were there, but I suppose my better senses got the best of me, and I instinctively moved to the side. A war-hammer wielding fiend, soon appeared from thin air. Their attempted assault broke their illusion, and they were now open for an easy counter. Doing just that, I swung low, and made them fall to their knees. Now completely vulnerable, the fourth of five resumed existence then as a charred husk. One now remained, and I was on full alert. I could hear ambient hissing echo throughout the mine, and as I ventured through the opening, it increased in volume. Yet another who decided to cloak themselves. I could not see them, but I swore I could almost smell them. Even so, a haphazard hiss would alert me, and I ducked accordingly. They flipped right onto their back as their assault attempt fell through. It seemed being sealed away for a considerable amount of time had done a number on their ability to fight. Rats could evoke more tension in my blood than those fools. One rightfully earned swing later, and their head rolled around the cavernous floor like a misplaced coin. Five down, and now one artifact surely owed. I traveled back down to the shrine, where Azura’s voice once again pervaded my mind. They thanked me for my service, and gifted me their star as a token of their gratitude. I now held an artifact, crucial would it be into furthering our quest for entering Camoran’s Paradise. It was quite the marvelous thing to behold truly, though I had no clue what power it really held. Regardless, my venture was successful, and I made my way back to Cloud Ruler Temple to show Martin what I had acquired. Martin let me know that once used, Azura’s Star would not be seen in quite some time. It didn’t much matter to me, so I accepted these terms and handed it over to Martin. I asked if there was anything else I could do to help. He told me that Jauffre was looking for me, something concerning trouble in Bruma. I recalled what was detailed in the note that I had given Jauffre, and already I knew what had happened. Upon speaking with Jauffre, this suspicion was confirmed. He was given word by the Countess of Bruma, of a gate to Oblivion opening just outside of the city. Given my experience on the matter, I was to convene with Captain Burd and show the guards with him how to handle such an occurrence. It was a bit flattering, and though I was hardly an expert, I did harbor the most knowledge on the gates compared to most in Cyrodiil. The pests of the mine hadn’t worn me down a notch, so I was more than ready to aid Captain Burd in defending Bruma. I had even got fondly acclimated to the otherwise stinging winds of the northern location. With a fire burning bright in my soul that night, I raced down to Bruma as fast as I could, and rendezvoused with Burd. Burd was grateful to my appearance there, and let me know that as soon as I was ready, he would motion him and his force arrayed to take down the gate. I was well prepared to face whatever was in there, so I gave Burd the signal immediately, and he proceeded to give a speech to his men. Once this concluded, Burd opted to take two men with him out of the five gathered. The rest were to defend against anything that might shuffle out of the gate. With our plan now set in motion, we charged on into the infernal hellscape awaiting us. The way to the main tower this time around though was much farther than I had anticipated. Our only choice was to go around, and cut down anything that tried to stop us. Our road was paved not only by molten rock and ashen stone, but scamps by the dozen and then some. The whole realm appeared to be littered with the pests, and we almost didn’t think we’d even encounter a dremora. With four blades against the buggers, they were easy pickings, and this gave some of the men a boost in confidence. Burd was still unsure, and his confidence began to wane as tension grew. But eventually, he reassured himself that with a power like our group held, taking this gate down would be just another footnote in the history of Bruma. Or so we all hoped anyway. We pressed on rather valiantly, and made swift progress despite all the winding paths. Issues did begin to arise when we encountered spinning columns. They seemed trivial compared to a few other significant landmarks, but where their appearance seemed mundane now that we had been acclimated to our surroundings, their utility was not to be brushed off so lightly. They spat fire at us relentlessly, and while they became easier to predict the more we journeyed, we did lose a man along the way. Now 3 against one terrible realm, our minds lingered a bit on the notion of failure. But if we made it this far, there was no going back. When war is waged, death is guaranteed, and there was no time to mourn or grieve. Our only option was to charge in, and snatch the Sigil Stone as soon as we could. We were headstrong, but still cautious. Dremora would make up the majority of opposition once inside the tower. But most were scattered about in a way that made them almost as simple to overwhelm as the scamps had been prior to reaching the tower. We were making swift progress in scaling the obsidian structure, but somewhere along the way, a trap had sprung from above, brutally ending yet another man’s life. It was now down to me and Burd, Bruma depended on us. No. The world depended on us now. It may had been one gate, but the stakes were far greater, and the end goal was of a severity unmatched by most. Our spirit should have been winnowed, but it was as if the casualties strengthened our souls to push on harder than before. We killed Dremora like it was our privilege to do so. But we weren’t bloodthirsty, we were champions. We scaled the tower effortlessly, because we were no longer afraid. What should’ve been a hindrance to our confidence, only strengthened us to smite the daedric fiends that lied in wait. Burd was right to have been selected as captain of the guard for Bruma. He was full of vigor and rage, but just the right amount to keep his head clear, and his heart willing. It seemed as if he picked up on my courage nigh instantaneously, and we made a team like no other. We reached the resting chamber of the Sigil Stone in a matter of mere moments, and this time, my plan was not to run towards the stone with fear and cowardice deciding my actions. We were to take on anything that was in that chamber. Almost humorously though, the chamber was terribly guarded. A scamp here, a dremora there, and nary an atronach or any other significant creature in sight. But, what was there to complain about? We cleared the room with ease, and I grabbed the stone. The realm quaked, and another blinding flash later, we were back home. The rest of the men that had been stationed outside of the gate, were still alive and well. Few daedra decided to venture outside of the gate, leaving the men and Bruma unharmed. They all chanted appraisal to our return, and mostly to their captain. But Burd noted to the men that it wouldn’t have been possible without my intervention. With my aid, Burd was now endlessly more confident if any more gates were to threaten the safety of his city. The men rushed off to celebrate, and Burd turned his attention back my way. He thanked me once more, stating it had been an honor, and afterwards he caught up with his men to celebrate. Bruma has officially been saved from turning out like Kvatch, and a warm feeling pervaded my senses. That content feeling however, did not last for long, as I knew there was still quite a bit of work to be done. In realizing this, I soon made my way back to Cloud Ruler Temple, bringing with me the news of our victory. While Jauffre was glad to hear it, he feared that Bruma would have eventually been overwhelmed in due time. He asked me to attempt and rally together forces from the other cities in Cyrodiil, for the defense of Bruma. It would’ve been a strange offer, but the vicinity of Cloud Ruler Temple and the emperor yet to be, proved this offer far more significant. I wasn’t sure of this idea at first, given that time didn’t seem to be on our side. But if we didn’t rally forces for Bruma, then the amount of time we did or didn’t have would hardly matter in the end. I decided to take Jauffre up on this offer, but also asked if there was anything else I could help with in the meantime. He informed me that Martin had made some more progress with the Mysterium Xarxes, and that I would likely want to check in with him immediately. Upon doing so, Martin revealed the second piece needed in completing the ritual. We would need the blood of a Divine. This was quite a puzzle, given that the gods did not harbor artifacts, let alone manifest themselves in any physical nature. Then Jauffre noted that since Tiber Septim had ascended to godhood, they could use his armor in proceeding with the second phase of the ritual. Martin told me that Jauffre could tell me more on the matter, and so I went back to Jauffre with the inquiry on Tiber Septim’s armor. Jauffre wasn’t too keen on having this as our only option, but there was simply no other choice available. So he informed me of a shrine to Tiber Septim, resting in the catacombs of a once holy place, known as Sancre Tor. There I could find the armor, but he warned me that great evil plagued the catacombs. This sounded fine enough, I had gone to hell and back twice by then, what could stop me now? But even so, Jauffre went on about the history of the place a bit more, and how after four of Tiber Septim’s mightiest blades had never come back after going in, the first Grandmaster sealed it up. Jauffre was still hesitant, but gave me the key to Sancre Tor, wishing nothing but for my safe return, and undoubtable success in retrieving the armor. The night wasn’t getting much younger, or easier for that matter, so I decided to get some rest before I set out on any of these tide shifting errands. Time appeared to be more lenient, and I had grown much more comfortable going to sleep while fate hung in the balance. Martin was alive, and had made great progress in deciphering that unholy tome. Several advances in our quest had gone underway in a matter of days, and everything was seeming pretty hopeful overall. Slept graced me in an instant, but my rest was not free from torment that night. A horrible nightmare, saw me standing amidst the lifeless bodies of all the people I had come to know during my time in aiding the Blades. But beyond their grizzly fate, lied nothing but darkness. I was alone, I felt cold, and all had failed. I gasped as I awoke, but of course, it was merely a dream. I could not allow a dream like that to even remotely resemble reality, so I saddled my horse, and ventured to every main city in Cyrodiil. This quest of mine however, is not something I will go into detail about. Believe it or not, this was probably the most boring part of my time in the Oblivion Crisis. What is there to even say? I spoke with either a count or countess, learned of a gate opening just outside their city’s walls, and then went to go cleanse them of their daedric infestation. After the gate’s inevitable closing, I’d return triumphant, they’d offer their support, and then onto the next city. Eight cities not counting the Imperial city, and thankfully Kvatch hadn’t any other gates spring up, so Savlian pitched in for support as well. As for the Imperial City, I was to speak with Ocato at the Imperial Palace. Despite their superior numbers and forces, Ocato was not willing to spare even a single man towards the cause, as he had enough trouble keeping stability in the city as it was. That was really all that happened on that escapade. But those “riveting” tales will have to stay with me for the time being, as the last thing I intend to do, is put you to sl-.....</p><p>Hey hey hey! </p><p>*snap*  *snap* </p><p>Come on now! You’d nearly fallen asleep!</p><p>Here, have another bottle of mead, this is quality stuff you know! Certainly not cheap either</p><p>I know my tales are often quite long….and maybe just a tad boring, b-but I promise you it’ll be worth staying awake for!</p><p>Anyways…………..uh….where was I?</p><p>Oh yes! I seem to have found my place again. So after my not so thrilling journey of uniting the forces of Cyrodiil in aiding Bruma, I decided I’d try and end the day on a much more worthwhile venture. That isn’t to say Bruma was not of my concern, but I had damn near mixed up the color of the sky for every time I had to breathe in that stale, hellish air. You’d think Oblivion would be  a much more exciting place to find yourself in. Maybe the first few times. But by your sixth, you’ll have gotten used to the heat more than the grass on the ground. Ah but I’m droning on again aren’t I? Any who, through many a steep hill, I eventually made my way to Sancre Tor, and to my surprise, the place looked to have been quite large before its eventual state of ruin. Skeletons littered every which way, but I only had to deal with a few in reaching the catacombs. They’re simple enough to handle I’d say, quite ferocious, and pain is not a factor to them. But their strength would also be their downfall, as the price for not feeling pain, is having a structure about as stable as standing on a twig. A few well placed swings, and they’d topple almost comedically. It was ironic in a way, that through horde after horde of various daedra, a long dead soul crumbling to the ground was what managed to actually put a bit of blood back in my facial features. After those brief encounters had ceased, I finally made my way into Sancre Tor itself. It was ominously luminescent in the ancient fort I had found myself in. There was a hazy blue mist that enveloped the place, and it was almost as cold in there as it was in Bruma. It appeared that something malicious had indeed infected this sanctum, and I was going to get to the bottom of it. As I ventured through the catacombs, I stumbled upon several spirits. But they were not benign, as each encounter would prove. They hurled chilling spells at me, that almost froze the very blood in my body. As with most undead of this type though, I figured I’d fight back with fire, and that did just the trick. But eventually, instead of a malignant spirit wandering yet another hall, I happened across something much more fearsome. A skeleton adorned with a sword, shield, and helmet, all originating from the Blades. This must’ve been one of the four that Jauffre had mentioned while unraveling the tale of Sancre Tor. This foe proved far more intense than the last few bags of bones and ectoplasm I had cut down. Regardless, I eventually won the battle, and out the spirit of Rielus had manifested. He was thrilled, as now he was free, and intended to fill out his lord’s last request. Before he absconded to attend such duties, I asked him about the history of his demise. He explained to me that the Underking, one Zurin Arctus, had taken his revenge upon his former lord. He managed to defeat, and ensnare the four Blades, binding them to an eternity of guarding the defiled shrine of Tiber Septim. While the Underking had departed long ago, his evil will still held an iron grasp over anyone daring to pay homage at the shrine. Rielus proposed to me that if I were to undo the Underking's magic, I would have to free the rest of his brothers throughout the catacombs. With that, he bid me farewell, and he would vanish, leaving me to my quest. Upon finding the exit to the chamber I had been in, plenty more rooms were now in sight. There was a main room just ahead, which presumably held what I had been seeking. But given what Rielus had explained, I would have to free his brothers first before attempting to descend into the shrine.  To say the catacombs of Sancre Tor were haunted, was to say that breathing was a challenge. Those halls were not haunted. They were cluttered. The ghosts on their own were fairly simple foes, and not overly challenging. But by the time I had gone through another room full of them, my arm was getting tired of it. Even so I pressed on, and found every last ill fated Blade that I had to. One in particular held quite a remarkable blade, and I decided to keep it on my hip just in case. My mace was excellent, there was no denying it, but it didn’t hurt to have an extra weapon on me at all times. Once all the spirits had been freed, and my body well and sore from the day’s earlier hellish journeys, I returned to the main chamber where the door leading into the shrine of Tiber Septim was lying in wait. I wanted to think further about my surroundings, and the vast history this place might’ve held, but by the Nine was I exhausted. I dragged myself into the shrine, and upon entry, each of the freed spirits had kneeled before the warding magic. Their power would overwhelm the ward cast upon the shrine, allowing me to enter and retrieve the armor I had set out for. The very armor to grace Tiber Septim himself, was right in my hands. Before making my way out, the spirits thanked me for my efforts, as they could now pass on to Aetherius without shame or abatement. Again, it all would’ve been quite incredible to lose my thoughts to, but I was just ready to give Jauffre and Martin their respective news, and collapse into the closest bedroll. It may have sounded ignorant, but you try going through several gates to one of the blandest realms ever conceived, and do the same damned tasks thrice fold! Forgive me, I still wake up bothered by those moments. *ahem* Moving on. With the armor now in my possession, I brought word of my triumphs back to Cloud Ruler Temple. I convened with Martin first and foremost. He was taken aback by my heroism, and knew Jauffre would likely have a similarly optimistic reaction. Luckily as well, Martin would require only a scraping of it to aid in performing the ritual, leaving the armor well and intact. He found a bit of humor in just how touchy the Blades were about their relics. Before I left to tell Jauffre of my success in gathering support in defending Bruma, Martin had deciphered the third part of the ritual. The item in question this time was a Great Welkynd Stone. This particular variant of the otherwise common magical stones found throughout various Ayleid ruins, was much more sought after, and therefore, not many were left for the finding. But there was supposedly still one lost within the ruins of the city of Miscarcand. The reason for the absence of its otherwise fated pilfering? Everyone who had tried, subsequently perished. Upon asking about Miscarcand a bit further, Martin elaborated some, inquiring it may still be haunted by the last king that ruled it. Whether true or not, he warned me to still be careful regardless. Martin marked it on my map, and with those words of caution tucked away, along with a new item in need of finding, I was ready to rest. But before I did, I managed a word with Jauffre on the matter concerning Bruma’s defense. Jauffre was more than pleased with my efforts to defend Bruma to its fullest possible extent. With Martin and Jauffre now pleased with the good news, I made my way to the west wing, where I could finally, finally, get some damned rest. I frankly didn’t want to see another gate to Oblivion for a long time. I had one of the most relaxing rests I could ever recall in my lifetime that night. One perk of working yourself to the bone, was that the sleep you were granted afterwards, would usually be one of the most fulfilling rests you’d ever have the good grace of getting. After waking from this incredible slumber, a new day awaited me, and a powerful item was in need of retrieval. I set out the first instance I could, and couldn’t help but admire the closeness in location that Miscarcand shared with Kvatch. It is as if fate itself had let it be so. The trip was long, but being as it was, I appreciated it to a degree. The day prior had been nothing but gallivanting around, shutting gate after bloody gate, and it quickly took its toll on me. But my trip to Miscarcand held no such obligations to anything other than arriving safely, and leaving with the Great Welkynd Stone in my possession. It had been a good while since I took in the beauty of Cyrodiil. The days prior gave me little chance to just take it all in for a moment, and watching as the wind caressed luscious leaves, and as grass swayed in its breezy stupor, eased my soul extraordinarily so. Finally, I had arrived at Miscarcand. Just as Martin had detailed, the ruins did indeed imply that a large city once inhabited the field. I always found it remarkable how history would seemingly have its way with some of the more colossal achievements man was able to muster. Granted, the Ayleids or Heartland High Elves, weren’t exactly people with open arms or open minds. While they were undoubtedly intelligent, and held a genius comparable to the Dwemer, their ignorance of the ones they belittled, would ultimately lead to their downfall. But as much as I would’ve loved to explore further into the history of my unfortunately bigoted ancestors, there were much more pressing matters at hand. Given Miscarcand's size, I found myself getting a bit befuddled on locating a clear entrance. Silly as that may had been, It wasn’t too much longer until I had thankfully happened upon it. Not so fortunate however, were the two rowdy goblins that were positioned just outside. They proved little challenge of course, but their obnoxiousness is something that could rival a master thief’s prowess in their craft. Once they were taken care of, I proceeded up a set of stairs, then down a separate set of stairs leading into the ruined city itself. As much as I had sworn to keep my mind from wandering, I marveled at the interior, a bit more so than the exterior. But almost as soon as I had wandered in, and began strutting about mouth nearly agape, something more peculiar would catch my attention. A blood splatter stained the ancient floor leading into a set of steps descending further into the ruins. It was hard to make out at first, but the scent indicated that it had been a rather recent incident. Next to it a rusted mace lied, but beyond this small pool was an even more violent stain streaking the ground just before hitting the steps. It was all very odd, but at the end of the stairs was a goblin just sort of standing around. Goblins indeed bled, but then that raised more questions. Was it this goblin that had bled, and if so, how do they suddenly appear fine? Granted they do have shamans, but the blood spilled seemed far too detrimental an injury to have been healed so resolutely. But if it wasn’t from the goblin that awaited me below, then where had the blood originated? Useless questions for the time, but I suspected I’d get answers the further I made my way into the ruins. The goblin hadn’t taken notice to my descent down the stairs, and so I snuck in a quick and painful bash to the back of its leathery skull, and it was down for good. Beyond lied a hallway that overlooked an area below. Strangely enough, I spotted a shambling corpse down there, and heard other varying groans echo throughout the ruins. It seemed as if two forces had taken residence here, and perhaps one was not too pleased by the other's intrusion. The undead certainly did not bleed, and while goblins were enemies to most people, they definitely weren’t friends with the undead. I made my way further into even dustier areas, almost getting snuck up on by a skeleton of all things, but it should’ve remembered to lighten their step, as I could practically hear those aching bones a continent away. With the bony assault evaded, a zombie appeared quite suddenly. I didn’t have time to trifle with it, so with a powerful enough shove, it fell to the ground in a heap. As I descended further, my suspicions were confirmed. While crossing a higher platform, I gazed out to the two divided areas below me. They indeed harbored more goblins and various undead having a go at each other. It was both humorous, and quite a relief to me, as it means I had less to deal with overall. Pressing on though, I was soon met with a gate. Beyond it, a door leading elsewhere into the city. But it would not open in any conventional sense, meaning I’d have to scour one of the rooms prior to my arrival at the gate. I retraced my steps some, this time just roasting the cadaver that had tried stopping me before. But another gate blocked one of the rooms. With little choice now at my disposal, I leapt from the platform connecting to the gate that had blocked me, and disposed of any survivors below. Eventually I made it into a room with a goblin shaman strolling about inside. This had me worried for a moment until I decided to turn my head. A button, presumably the one that opened the gate that had initially blocked my way, was right smack there. With the shaman’s attention diverted elsewhere, I pushed it in as quickly as I could, then left the room and opened the gate that had originally blocked it. I paced back to the gate barring entry to the door, and as hoped, the gate was gone and the door lay straight ahead. Unsurprisingly, the interior did not shift much in design or quality, but the room awaiting me down a set of stairs, was a large chamber holding something of significance in the middle. Inside the chamber itself was yet more conflict arising from unwelcome guests. While they were distracted with each other, I noticed another button adorning a wall on the left side of the room. Upon pushing it, the cover that had veiled whatever was in the middle of the room, suddenly raised and revealed something truly wonderful. While I hadn’t known it at the time, what I was looking at was none other than a “Varla Stone”. These fetched quite a hefty sum at markets, as I would discover. Though I had no clue what I was eyeing, I knew it was far too early into the trip for this to be the stone I was searching for. The only other significant stones I had spotted thus far were much more common, which had reminded me of Martin’s wording in describing the item I was after. I grabbed it nonetheless however, as something that beautifully grand in gleam alone, simply couldn’t be left to rot in the ruins of a long dead people. With the dazzling gem stowed away, and the opposition still locked in combat among themselves, I exited into the door just ahead on the left. After a run in with another zombie, the room ahead was quite large as well, and similarly to the first part of the ruins, overlooked an area below. It didn’t seem any fighting there had taken place, or if it had, had subsided before my arrival. I pressed on through a few more rooms, each home to at least one or more undead variety. There was surprisingly little to this section of the city overall, if we ignore the stone I managed to uncover. A button was somewhere, I pushed it, and upon reaching the room once overlooked by me just moments ago, another door lied in wait. I don’t intend to sound ungrateful or uninterested about my time there, but a few more goblin scuffles might’ve added to the atmosphere no? The door in that room however, led to exactly what I was hoping for. Upon entering through the door, I was met with yet another overlooking platform. This time however, it had barred openings, and was at a much higher elevation in comparison to what I was viewing. To capture this type of scene better, I’d compare it to my time sitting up in the arena stands at the Imperial City. As for what I did see, hope then sparkled in my eyes, like the beaming moons gracing twilight. I could faintly make out a vast bluish glow centered on some sort of repository, and beyond that, a crystalline shape floating amidst it. I was essentially giddy at this point. Only a few rooms of bashful corpses, and smelly beasts, and I was already nearly face to face with the item I desired? I must’ve been blessed by the Nine or something. I practically flew by the rooms in my excitement. There were some more bold cadavers scattered here and there, but still proving little to no challenge, I reached the Great Welkynd Stone in a matter of moments. There it now floated, almost mocking me with its pristine figure. It seemed so gentle and inviting, that I almost hesitated in snatching it. I shook that preposterous notion right quick though, and shoved the thing right into my bag without a second thought. I had it, and to think it had been so simple too. But then, my attention was drawn to the looming evil that had manifested behind me. The blood in my body felt as if it had been sucked dry. My feet nearly collapsed in on themselves. What I now stood to face, was what should’ve stayed a legend. I knew it had been far too easy, so I guess it was fair in the end. Standing, or more accurately, levitating, was what I presumed to be the long dead Ayleid king, that Martin had warned me about. It may have seemed foolish on my part not to have suspected drawing his attention, considering everything else that had taken place in merely a week's time. And I suppose such an inquiry towards my disregard of that kind of threat, would be quite justified. Regardless, there he was, and he was not happy to say the least. But I was the Hero of Kvatch! I could make the gates of hell bow to my feet, and I wasn’t about to let some rotting piece of history take that away from me. Vigor traced my every step, and instead of my mace, I drew forth the enchanted blade I had scavenged during one of my scuffles at Sancre Tor. The king thought himself smarter than to be bested by some barbaric thief attempting to plunder his ruined city, and let off a spell a bit too quickly. He must’ve been expecting to put me into shock, but when I ran at him with an intensity he hadn’t anticipated, he fumbled with his magic, and missed his target completely. As payment for this failure, I beheaded the ancient ruler, and a key dropped from his tattered cloth, I pocketed the key and spun around quickly, as I cut down two unwary zombie guardians that the king brazenly assumed would protect him. Now all that was left, was to get out of Miscarcand, and return to Martin triumphantly. It took a bit more concentration to escape, as the place was infested with zombies, and floor panels that may have initially evaded my detection. Thankfully I eventually managed my way right back to the where I had entered, where a deviant goblin thought he’d get the drop on me. A quick thrashing from yours truly, would prove the scoundrel had greatly misjudged me. I was finally free from that old hole, and off I went back to Cloud Ruler Temple to inform Martin of my swift success. I felt very invigorated that day for some reason or another. Maybe my skill was starting to show, and that brought nice thoughts with it? No that’s silly. It was more so that we were closer than ever to completing the ritual to gain access into Camoran’s Paradise. With the Amulet returned to Martin, Tamriel would get to see another day dawn as graciously as ever. After another rather relaxing stroll through the countryside, I eventually arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple. As I walked into the Great Hall however, I noticed that Jauffre and Martin were locked in a friendly debate concerning Bruma presumably. After that had concluded, I approached Martin with the news, and handed him the Great Welkynd Stone. Similarly to my reaction, he was in awe of its beauty, but commented that it was just as deadly as it was beautiful. After the trade had concluded, Martin began to go on about the last thing required to begin the ritual. And finally open a portal to Camoran’s Paradise. Here we were! My blood was rushing at the thought of cutting that maniac down once and for all! But then I asked just what that item would be. Big mistake. In order to finally open the portal, we would need none other than a Great Sigil Stone. Martin explained that as the daedra and divine items were of opposition, so would the welkynd stone and the sigil stone be counterparts to each other. As if a lich had leached my soul, my face drained of color quickly upon receiving this news. But there was a catch to this particular item’s retrieval. To obtain such a powerful item, we would have to allow the Mythic Dawn to go through with their plans to open a great gate just outside of Bruma. Almost no one was happy with this idea, including me, but we had no choice. As much as I hated the thought of going through another gate to Oblivion, my hate of the blasted Mythic Dawn was greater than some petty preference to exploration. The world needed us, and I wasn’t going to allow my feelings to get in the way of that. The plan sounded risky but fine enough, until Martin dropped that he would be the one leading the defense of Bruma. That madman! He was going to get himself killed! Or so I first had thought to myself. But after Martin elaborated on his reasoning a bit further, it became clear to me his intent. While I was still unsure of it, I had confidence in the man. He may not have been crowned emperor quite yet, but already he was making bold yet necessary decisions. The future seemed promising with a man like that. I accepted the terms of our mission, and Martin asked me to inform the Countess of their convening at the Chapel of Talos in town. He figured it was a fitting enough spot for desperate plans to be held and executed. Before making my way down to Bruma, I confronted Jauffre on the matter he and Martin were discussing. While Jauffre was unsure like me, him and his Blades would stand by whatever decision Martin would come to make. With that, I was off to Bruma to meet with Countess, and inform her of Martin’s plans. There isn’t much to say on the interior of the castle, it was as grand and pompous as you’d likely expect. Any who, in my attempt to persuade the Countess, she was surprisingly easy enough to sway into convening with Martin in the chapel. She had dealings with the Blades on many occasions, and accepted the offer to discuss the plans of defending Bruma with Martin. I followed the Countess and her convoy to the chapel, where inside, Martin had been waiting alongside Jauffre and Baurus. They held a discussion, eventually agreed to the terms presented, and Martin would be ready as soon as I was. I took a small moment to breathe, clear my mind, then turned to face Martin for what I hoped wouldn’t be the last time. I was ready, Martin was ready, and while the rest may have still been unsure, the time was drawing near, and eventually they had to be ready as well. With everyone now prepared to face what lied ahead, the Countess ordered Burd to round his men up, and we all left the chapel soon after. Outside the townsfolk had gathered to chant and praise the name “Martin Septim!”. It was quite the scene, and it gave us a small boost of confidence concerning our plan. Once out of the city gates, and a bit further along down the road, we spotted one of the three lesser Oblivion gates said to be opened before the great gate could. Once we finally arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing came out of the gate thus far, giving Martin a chance to have a word with the forces arrayed. Lined up at the rear were soldiers from all over Cyrodiil. Not many, but hopefully enough for whatever we were to endure. Baurus, Jauffre, and Captain Burd also made up the other three individuals that accompanied this force. The tension was almost palpable, so Martin gave a motivating speech to try and bolster the spirits of the soldiers there. It was a vast improvement over the last speech I had witnessed the man give, and it seemed to do the trick for everyone there, including me to some extent. There were three things of the utmost importance for us to succeed. Martin had to survive this conflict. The Great Sigil Stone had to be secured. And the terrible siege engine would be making its way out of the great gate, if it was able to escape fully intact, Bruma would be doomed. This meant my time was limited for once the great gate opened, and I would have to scour the plane it harbored as quickly as I could manage. With Martin’s speech concluded, and the soldiers all standing their ground, the first wave of unwelcome guests spewed forth from the gate. This consisted mostly of scamps and a few dremora, hardly much of a challenge for our numbers. But then the second gate would open, and the number of forces opposed was now increasing. As well as the fact that a few daedroth would also make their way out of the second gate. Big, ugly, and fierce reptilian hulks that tore through anything they so desired. But we were still doing moderately well, only costing us two minor casualties. Soon the third gate would open with the same consistency of enemies arrayed, but their numbers were beginning to swell at this point, and one could only pray that the great gate would be opened soon after. I decided it best to utilize my blade during this onslaught. This would sound arrogant coming from anyone else, but I doubt their force would’ve endured as much as they had, had I not been present for the battle. The soldiers were still a great help nonetheless, and their numbers combined with my experience, made holding off hordes a much smoother process. Suddenly, just as things had been heating up, the great gate suddenly erected. It was massive, truly earning its title in the end. I had no idea what waited for me beyond this particular gate, but there was absolutely no time to contemplate the consequences of my arrival. The moment it was fully open, I charged in without having to be told. I was in, time was ticking, and the siege engine was crawling along. As the gigantic gate opened before me, I could see the main tower just ahead over a great pool of scalding lava. To both sides were towers that seemingly crossed over to the area harboring the tower I was after. There was nary a second to spare, so I went through the right path presented. After many tantalizingly slow lifts, and long narrow bridges crossed, I eventually came very close to where I had intended, but a gap was present in the bridge I stood upon. Time was still ticking, and while the siege engine was slow, I couldn’t risk even a moment to get lost in contemplation. With little choice, I leapt with the grace of a divine. If I missed, I would’ve plummeted to my likely death. While below me wasn’t a boiling body of hell juice, it would’ve very much broken my legs. I closed my eyes before landing, and upon landing, opening them once again. My legs weren’t crushed to a fine powder, I could see the other side at the same elevation, by the Nine I was alive and well! To the tower I headed, but a gate blocked my path. To blazes with that gate I thought, and I charged into the smaller tower responsible for blocking my way. Once finding the mechanism responsible for the interruption, I yanked it back down, and made my way past that infernal gate. I wasn’t sure what was driving me with such ferocity. Martin’s speech perhaps? The severity of what was at stake? Likely the ladder if not both. I was no Imperial, I hardly belonged in Cyrodiil at all! But for the time I spent there thus far, it became my home, my people, and the place I cared about unlike anything else before it. My memory was far from complete, but I didn't even care at that point. There were greater things to concern myself with than the fate of my past, and by all that was holy I was going to concern myself with those things. Everything went by in such a blur, I can almost hardly recall fighting anything in that cursed structure. Maybe it was my rage, or my general disinterest in Oblivion at that point, but before I knew it, I was face to face with the Great Sigil Stone…...Great my aunt! It looked the same as any other damned stone in any of those infernal hell portals! Regardless of my disposition towards its meager appearance and placement in such a tiresome plane of existence, I snatched it and was gifted a blinding flash accordingly. Upon returning to Cyrodiil, I was nearly crushed by a quarter of the siege engine that had managed past the gate during my stone thieving escapade. I got out of the way in time though, and spoke with Martin thereafter. He was ecstatic over our victory, and now all that was left was to open the portal to Camoran’s Paradise, and retrieve the Amulet of Kings. Baurus and Jauffre had survived as well, and this was quite a relief, as I had feared the worst. I spoke with Jauffre while Martin headed off to Cloud Ruler Temple to prepare the ritual. Jauffre also expressed the utmost importance of our time spent now being fully prepared to enter the portal to Camoran’s Paradise. After our brief interaction had passed He warned me to bring anything I deemed important to the mission, as once in, my only way out would be to defeat Mankar Camoran. I was certain I had everything I needed, and once I was back at the temple, I was met with a truly unique sight. The two powerful stones I had gone the lengths to uncover, now floated across from each other, near the front of the room. They hovered over a small ritualistic circle, adorned in many a cryptic marking. The stones both emanated their respectively powerful opposed energies, while Martin stood nearby, awaiting my readiness. I was ready, but Martin took the opportunity to warn me yet again that the portal would close upon entry into Camoran’s Paradise. He proposed that, if I managed to kill Mankar Camoran, it would unmake his paradise, sending me straight back to Cloud Ruler Temple. I planned on running that man through anyways, so this sounded like a stellar idea in my book. With that, Martin asked me once more for my approval upon opening the portal, I gave him said approval, and Martin wished me luck for what might’ve lied ahead. The Amulet was going to be recovered, no matter what. Martin then began to open the portal, and that in it of itself was quite the nice little spectacle. The forces of light and dark, intertwined, and in their wake, a gateway to an unknown realm. I took a deep breath, stared into the blazing sphere of a portal, and finally crossed over into Paradise. Upon finally opening my eyes, I definitely was somewhere other than Cloud Ruler Temple. Paradise was a decent title adorned by the realm, it certainly did harbor a beauty I didn’t think to see upon inviting myself in. I was feeling rather confident about my infiltration, but then, Mankar began to speak to me. He did not stand behind, in front, or even anywhere near me. He instead opted to violate my inner thoughts, and speak to me directly without warning. I guess it should’ve figured that in his own realm, he’d know of my presence there. But subconscious dweller or not, I wasn’t afraid of him. He was too pompous to see anything of me, besides a wannabe hero for a world he was already well and done with. This “Paradise” of his making, was also dubbed “Gaiar Alata”. For Mankar, it was a unison of visions pertaining to the past and future. It would’ve been rather fascinating, were I not intending to embed a katana deep into his blackened heart. While following the path along, I noticed that other men were strolling the realm to their leisure. Were these his “Chosen”? Did they ascend in some way, as to earn their place in the realm? I did manage a conversation with one that was walking the opposite direction of the path I was trailing. They were not very happy with my presence there, and hinted at “having enough troubles as it was”. He shooed me off pretty quickly, but it was a bit peculiar for his mood to be so sour. I mean, it was labeled “Paradise” after all. Did he fear his master’s death? Or had he put up with something in the realm long enough to grow tired of it? I suppose it mattered little, as shortly after pondering it, not even a few moments later, I ran into a clannfear. Runty creatures to be sure, but not particularly difficult to dispose of. It merely reminded me that my goal was far more important than to trouble myself with the on-goings of shirtless maniacs. Further along the trail, I eventually reached a place dubbed the “Savage Gardens” by Mankar. He explained that it was where his disciples were tempered for a higher destiny. Their “destiny” was to rule over a “Tamriel Reborn”, as he called it. Interestingly, Mankar had suggested that if I was this hero of destiny, the gardens would not give me much trouble. Hmph, right he was about that. He told me to meet him at his seat of “Carac Agaialor”, the pinnacle of his Paradise. “Sure” I thought to myself, rather kind of him to invite me into his domain, just so I could slaughter him. The actual on-goings on the path leading there, was nothing too exciting, but I will say that the scenery was something almost dreamlike in presentation. It made it all the more enchanting when daedric corpses littered the place. Eventually though, I ran into a dremora. But the difference in confrontation for this particular warrior, was that he decided to speak with me first. He went on about my victory over a place he called “Ganonah”. Was he referring to Kvatch? It could’ve been possible, but it could’ve been just about anywhere in Cyrodiil for all I knew. It was strangely flattering to earn the appraisal of a daedric soldier. I told him that I simply sought out Mankar Camoran, and he appreciated how blunt I was in my approach. He explained that he guarded the path, and if I were to travel it, he would best me honorably. But he also informed me of a different option, one where I would go into his “service”, as it were. That was swiftly declined on my end. There wasn’t a chance in that realm or the next, that I’d ever serve some daedric scum. So I chose battle instead. If I managed to win, I would need the “Bands of the Chosen” in order to enter the “Forbidden Grotto”. But the dremora doubted that would happen. Funny that he thought that. But he put up a hell of a better fight than anything else I had faced on that path. With the dremora now taken care of, I equipped myself with the bands he had mentioned, and made my way to the Grotto. They felt a bit odd being around my wrists, but I shrugged it off. Mankar began to ramble on a bit more about various daedric realms, and the association that Tamriel added to the mix. Inside were more of the ascended that dotted Paradise, and Mankar droned on while I navigated the place. It was undoubtedly interesting, so perhaps Gwinas and Tar-Meena were right about the intrigue that Camoran evoked. Eventually I reach a sinister door, leading further into the grotto, and supposedly right to Mankar upon escaping its halls. Put as many ominous entries as you wish, but I would charge through every last opening. The grotto now appeared to darken, and emit a more hellish glow throughout the expanse. At this point, Mankar was conveying a point about the Daedra being the only true gods. I didn’t really know what to believe as he went on, but it didn’t change the fact that I was going to put his tyranny to an end. Descending further into the grotto, I happened across a man bearing the signature robes of a member belonging to the Mythic Dawn. But when they approached me, they did not wish for my blood to be spilled, but rather for my aid of all things. This individual had apparently been present for the sacking of Kvatch, but was slain shortly after by three civilians. He stated that after this incident, he was given a lot of time to ponder on his choices. Ponder, and regret, as he put it. But for this swaying of the soul, Mankar forced him to torture his brothers, who shared a similar feeling of dissatisfaction and ingratitude to the eternal life they were granted. The way the man intended to help me, was to remove the bands I had dawned. I was befuddled by this statement at first, then realized the bloody things really wouldn’t come off of me! I apparently wouldn’t be able to leave the grotto with the bands on, so I had to follow along with whatever this former agent had in store for me. He informed me that a dremora overseer, known as Orthe, would come in to check up on him. Once that occurred, I would just have to act like a prisoner until Orthe left. After that, we would convene in a quiet place to remove the bands. Orthe soon arrived, and the environment would grow profoundly tense upon so. The situation didn’t seem to get out of hand, and the man handled his lies masterfully. The terrifying part was getting in the cage hovering over a river of molten lava. I had to sell the performance if I wanted to escape, so I obliged. I noticed that the torturing system for immortals there, worked by having two cages balance, and weigh each other down when necessary. One cage would go up, while the other was plunged into lava. As the cage I entered began to descend, my heart followed suit. I came just short of coming back up a pile of bones. But thank the Nine that the man pulled me back up just in time. Though as this happened, the other inhabited cage just across from me began to plummet back into the lava. I found myself harboring some pity for these poor souls, and wondered if upon driving a blade into Mankar’s neck, it would free them from this torment. But the cage now only could open on one end, and so I had to go a ways alone for a bit until the man was able to find his way back to me further on. I hoped this to be true, so begrudgingly, I pressed on. The rest of the way was pretty straight forward luckily, and eventually I happened upon yet another sinister door to pass through. Upon entry, I met with the man again. He had full confidence in me, and soon removed my bands. But before I absconded, he asked to accompany me in my quest to put an end to Mankar Camoran. I happily agreed, and we descended through the rest of the grotto. Mankar took notice of my swift progress, and was more than ready to greet me at any given moment. He was hoping that I would prove myself, and I was going to do just that. It took some time, but with the man’s help, we cleared the grotto with relative ease. We finally made it out of that hole, and we trailed the path leading to Carac Agaialor. Upon arriving there, his children stood outside, waiting to escort us inside. They were ready to see me crumble, but I sure wasn’t ready to let that happen. I was yet again, face to face with the one behind it all. After reveling in his speech on the downfall of Tamriel, he finally agreed to fight. Here it was. Here we were. The last stretch of a long winded journey. It was incredible. It was astounding. But most of all. It was over instantly! The look on that fool’s face when a blade inhabited the place his heart should’ve resided! Oh what a grand and intoxicating moment that had been. As soon as he dropped, so did the world he created, along with his followers that had been granted immortality. I quickly snatched the Amulet of Kings, and Paradise crumbled around me. Before I could be crushed by an otherworldly stone however, I was transported safely back to Cloud Ruler Temple. I convened with Martin immediately, and gave word on my victory, and the recovery of the Amulet. Martin had even adorned the emperor’s robes in preparation. Without much further delay, I handed the Amulet over to Martin, and he dawned it soon after. At this point, he really did look like his father, and he was ready to carry on that legacy. But Martin denied being emperor just yet, as the last thing we had to do now, was light the Dragonfires. This would prevent any more daedric invasions, tempting to breach the walls between our world and theirs. Martin had notified chancellor Ocato beforehand, and we were to meet him in the palace accordingly. But there was no time to merely stand about, we were to head to the Imperial City as soon as possible. We did just that, and along the way, my heart was racing. I wasn’t nervous I don’t think, but I felt a rush course it’s way through my body. I tried my best to just keep steady and calm, and before I knew it, we had finally arrived at the Imperial Palace. We convened with the chancellor, and everything was going swimmingly. But a guard ran in with a panicked tone, and brought tragic news to the table. Oblivion gates had been opened in the city, and daedra were pouring forth from every which way. Martin declared the significance of getting to the Temple of the One immediately, and Ocato ordered the guards to round up, and ensure the new emperor’s safety. A few dremora rushed inside of the chamber, but we stopped their meager assault swiftly enough. We then made our way out of the Palace altogether. Sure enough, a daedric invasion of the Imperial City had just begun. The sky was a deep red, and an infernal storm was brewing. But all we had to do was reach the Temple. Daedra swarmed us, but we crushed every last one. When we entered the gate leading into the district harboring our destination though, tragedy struck once more. Mehrunes Dagon himself had obliterated the barrier between our worlds, and made an appearance in the city, as a towering colossus. Had we lost? Were we too late? Maybe not. Martin had lost hope, but when I suggested the use of the Amulet to its fullest potential, this kindled an idea within Martin. We would have to find a way to use the Amulet in such a fashion, and Martin motioned us to press on into the Temple to do just that. We managed our way inside, and I spoke with Martin, for what would be our last conversation. He knew what had to be done, and he was willing to make the sacrifice to do it. He bid me farewell, then went to where he would kindle the Dragonfires. But instead, he transformed into an aspect of Akatosh himself. He blasted the roof right off of the temple, and Mehrunes took notice. They engaged in a short duel, ultimately defeating Dagon, and banishing him. After this, the aspect began to turn to stone, and eventually solidified as a statue. Tamriel was saved. But Martin was gone, along with the Septim dynasty as a whole. Gone. But never soon forgotten.</p><p>*sniff* *sniff* </p><p>I'M NOT CRYING!</p><p>*ahem* </p><p>Anyways</p><p>My journey seemed to be over, but I was more than ready to prove that assumption wrong. I didn’t know what was in store for me, but I knew I'd be ready for anything. Martin was left as a monument to the bravery of that moment in history. And that is the story of my time in the Oblivion Crisis. I hope you were able to endure all of that, and I hope that we can do this again sometime yes?</p><p>Pardon?</p><p>You fell asleep a lot?</p><p>………..</p><p>That is the last time I offer up that much mead to you! </p><p>Oh I could just! Just….I…. Oh who am I kidding.</p><p>Fine, for next time’s story, I’ll have you stay completely sober</p><p>You’ll need to be for what I intend to show you next time.</p><p>Until then. Take care……...</p>
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